Types of Magic
by lordchandler
Summary: As the Wizarding World is plunged into Darkness, Harry, Hermione, Ron and the DA set out to throw back the tide of evil. To win, they must all learn that there are many types of magic. HHr, RLu and others
1. Prologue

**A/N: This is my first real attempt at starting a fanfic. It will be action and adventure, with some big battle scenes and some smaller ones. There will also be romance, for how real is teenage life without romance?**

**Prologue**

The wind howled, driving the rain horizontally through the streets of nighttime London. The rain swept streets were completely devoid of human life, no-one wanting to be out on such a night. Only the faint noises of the sleeping city could be heard.

Suddenly, a loud crack broke the silence, startling a nearby cat that had been rooting through some garbage. A blond haired man was suddenly standing in the center of the deserted street. He looked around, and then sped off down the street, his shoes clacking loudly on the hard concrete. He reached a side alley, and he darted down it.

He continued down the alleyway for several moments, before a noise at his back startled him. He stopped, and looked over his shoulder. In the mouth of the alley, there was a figure, long cloak billowing and blocking out the light of the alley way.

The blond-haired man spun quickly on his heel, but when he executed the turn, he found himself still staring at the figure at the end of the passage way.

"Let me go." The man pleaded softly, his voice tinged with fear.

"I've been waiting for you." It said, pleasantly, as though it hadn't heard the man's plea. The blond haired man turned full around, hand buried in his coat, grasping at something. The thing blocking the entrance way shook its head, and brought its hand up, pointing the open palm at the blond man. The fingers closed, and the man in the alley fell to his knees, gasping for breath. It opened its mouth to speak, and this time there was nothing pleasant about the voice now.

"We can't be having any of that can we?" it menaced, its voice filled with hatred, anger, and undeniable power and authority.

"No. I'm afraid that you will not be leaving here alive. Your little friends can never retrieve the information you are carrying. It's much too valuable. If you would be so kind, please, hand it over." It asked its voice again pleasant. His hand opened again, and the man fell flat to his face, gasping in great quantities of air. His hand continued to grope beneath his coat.

"Go to hell, you bastard!" The fallen man gasped, his voice carrying through the still night air. The figure at the mouth of the alley way shook his head in a most disappointed manner.

"You could have just given it to me, and died peacefully. Unfortunately, your time has run out. Goodbye!" It roared, flicking its hand forward, sending the cringing man flying into a wall, where his neck snapped with a sickening crunch. The figure now beckoned with his hand, drawing the corpse toward him. It floated eerily along the ground, and stopped, hovering a foot from the figure, who reached out, and grasped it by the shirt.

"Your rest shall not be so peaceful. You will serve a much greater purpose now." It whispered, almost lovingly, before it disappeared noiselessly into the night.

**A/N: I know this doesn't seem like much, but it will be relevant later in the story. I beg you, don't be dissuaded from reading if this seems odd, it will all work out in the end. **

**Thank you,**

**Dave**


	2. Chapter One: Number Four Privet Drive

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, places, or ideas brought from by J.K Rowling. Other then that, they are mine.

A/N: Ok. Hope you liked the prologue. Several of the things will be important later. Anyone care to venture a guess as to the greater purpose? Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Chapter One**

The car ride back the Dursley's residence had been awkward. None of them had spoken a word since leaving King's Cross. The Dursley's were even more uncomfortable around Harry then usual. Harry however had given no thought to the Dursley's at all. His mind was racing with the thought of everything that had happened over the last few weeks. The Horcruxes, Dumbledore, Ginny, the locket, Snape, Malfoy. Harry's head hung down on his chest, and he was dozing fitfully. His dreams were dark, and he was jerked away by his Uncle Vernon slamming the door on the car and stalking away toward number Four Privet Drive. Harry unbuckled himself, and shuffled to the side, and opened the door.

After he got out, he stretched his arms upward, and rolled his head from side to side. He had been sleeping uncomfortably in the car, and he was paying for it now. He shuffled round to the back of the car, and saw that the boot was not open. Sighing, he walked round to the front door, and opening it, reached inside, and popped the boot. He felt a touch of anger rising within him. He hadn't even set foot in the Dursley's home, and already they were grating on his nerves. Slamming the front door on Vernon's precious car, Harry moved back to the rear, and tugged his trunk free of the boot. He would have loved to levitate the thing out, and watched the horrified reactions of the snobby residents of Privet Drive. He cracked a slight smile, and then continued to lug the heavy trunk to the house.

As he entered he slammed the door angrily, more then anything, he did this to anger the Dursleys then to actually take out any frustration. He moved into the hallway a bit, before dumping the trunk on the ground. He was not in the mood to carry it upstairs, when he would only have to bring it down again on the morrow. He had decided that he would only stay at the Dursley house for twenty-four hours, at which point he would head off to either the Burrow, or Twelve Grimmauld Place. He was leaning heavily toward the decision of heading to the Black's family manor because he did not relish the thought of being face to face with Ginny so soon. He felt a twinge of regret and sadness as his mind turned to her.

It had been so hard for Harry to break up with her, but he had known it was what he had to do. If he were to go after the Horcruxes, then he could only do it alone. No one else could die on his behalf. Harry felt hot tears of rage brimming in his eyes, as he thought of those that had fallen in his defense. Angrily, he shook his head, shaking away the half-formed tears. Harry knew that the undertaking of Dumbledore's quest would probably result in the loss of his own life. The hardest thing, Harry knew, would be convincing Ron and Hermione to let him carry out this quest on his own.

Harry had been thinking hard about how to solve that problem since he had found out that he had to carry out the quest of destroying the Horcruxes himself, without Dumbledore's help. He knew that he could never just ask them to leave him alone, or he would be plagued by their constant pestering to let them help. Also, telling them that he didn't need their help wouldn't discourage them either. They would only think that in his emotional state he was crying out for help by pushing them away, or some such nonsense. Or at least, Hermione would. Harry doubted that Ron would really come up with something like that. He'd probably just think that Harry was being an ass.

Harry had decided that the easiest way to distance himself from his friends was to simply ignore them. If he refused to respond to them, and he didn't see them anymore, it would be easier on them both. They would be removed from the danger that had surrounded Harry since the day that Voldemort had set out to kill him, over fifteen years ago. Not that they could really be safe until he completed the task that Dumbledore had started.

Harry had figured out how to distance himself from his friends as well. If he refused to answer their letters, or even to see them, it would be hard for them to maintain a friendship with him. When he reached this decision, he decided that he would be moving into the Black manor. This way, his friends would not be able to see him. As he was the owner to the house, he could forbid the Order to let Ron and Hermione into the Manor. That's if the Order was still using the decrepit building as its base of operations.

Harry nodded to himself, content that he was making the right decision. Over time they would move on with their lives, and hopefully forget about him. He smiled sadly to himself as he realized what he was contemplating. He was planning on pushing his two best friends out of his life for good.

_No, _he thought resolutely, _only for as long as it takes me to destroy Voldemort. Then I will be able to have a normal life again. _With this thought, Harry was forced to smile, despite the hardship that lay before and behind him. When had he, or his friends, ever led a normal lives?

Just as he was about to head up the stairs to his room, Uncle Vernon entered the hallway. His cold glare slid from Harry to the trunk resting at the side of the stairs. Harry watched as the skin underneath his walrus mustache began to turn red. He turned his head to glare at Harry.

"What are you doing?" he breathed menacingly. Harry, who knew _exathingsctly_ what is irate Uncle was referring to, decided to feign ignorance. Holding back a smirk, he screwed his face into a confused look.

"I'm going up to my room?" he said questioningly, which succeeded in maddening his Uncle, face turned an even deeper shade of red, bordering on purple. Harry had to struggle even harder to keep a straight face.

"I can _see_ that! Why is your trunk still in the hall?" he asked, seething with rage. His fat hands were clenched at his sides.

"Oh, _that_! Well, you see, it's quite heavy, and well, I didn't much feel like carrying it up to my room." He replied cordially. He knew that he was pushing his luck with his short fused Uncle, but he was enjoying it immensely.

"Take those…_things_… in that trunk out of my sight, this instant!" he said, his voice rising to a shout. His biggest fear in life was people discovering that his nephew was a wizard, something completely abnormal. His face had turned a park purple now.

"No, thank you. They are quite alright were they are." Harry told him, before turning away, and continuing up the stairs. Before he got another step up, a meaty hand clapped down on his shoulder, and spun Harry forcefully around, nearly knocking him sprawling. As Harry regained his balance, he was confronted by a furious Vernon. Harry had never outright disobeyed him, especially not in such a calm manner.

"Move it! NOW!" he bellowed, shoving his face right in front of Harry, who merely stood looking disinterested. His hands were drawn into fists.

"I said that they are fine where they are." Harry said a little more forcefully, with an air of finality around his words. He turned to leave again. This time, when Vernon's hand clamped on his shoulder, Harry reached into his pocket, and drew out his slender wand. As he was turned around this time, he brought the wand up, aiming it into Vernon's dark purple face, which blanched immediately. He took a cautious step away from the wand wielding teen.

"You can't use magic outside of school." He said in an unconvinced voice. He took another step back.

"Try me!" Harry growled, as he took a meaningful step forward. As he approached, he seemed to grow in Vernon's eyes, until he was all that could be seen. Vernon's bullying courage failed him, and he looked down, and shuffled away into the kitchen. Shooting a hate filled look at his Uncle, Harry stowed his wand away, and headed up to his room, with a satisfied look on his face.

A/N: Hope you liked it. Please read and Review… flames are discouraged. I'll try to have the next chapter up soon, and there will probably be others than Harry in the chapter. Vernon doesn't count as a person.

Dave


	3. Chapter Two: Fortress of Solitude

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, places, or ideas brought from by J.K Rowling. Other then that, they are mine.

A/N: The last chapter was mainly to establish the story line for the first bit of the novel. I am going to continue on that track this chapter, obviously. So Thanks to my ONE reviewer. I hope that more people pick up the story as it goes along. Please Read and Review.

Dave

**Chapter Two: Fortress of Solitude**

Harry watched from above, unable to interfere with the scene that unfolded below. At first, he could not comprehend what was happening. He was floating over a quite suburban area, silent in the night time, save for the odd squawk of a startled bird, or the honking of a car horn. Street lights displayed the shapes of the roads. Harry knew instinctively that he was somewhere over a suburb of London. The ordered streets were indicative of the newer developments around the ancient city. He was falling slowly, and he was drifting like a leaf in the wind. His mind strained, trying to figure out why he was being shown this scene. In the past, his dreams had always seemed to be the precursor to something bad, like his dream about Mr. Weasley, in his fifth year at Hogwarts. However, he could not shake the intense feeling of contentment that was settling over him.

_It's just a dream, _he decided. So, relaxing, he figured he might as well enjoy his rare, peaceful dream. As soon as he let go of his reservations, everything changed. He began to fall faster, whipping towards the ground at an astonishing speed. He could hear, and fell the wind whipping past his face. It whistled in his ears, and stung his eyes. Then, an explosion rent the night sky off to his left, followed by another. The night came alive with screams, explosions, alarms, and above it all, a high, cold laugh.

Harry's heart caught in his throat when he heard that laugh. He knew what it meant. His fear held him for only a moment, before it turned into solid rage. He tried to turn in the direction of the explosions, and reach for his wand, but he found that he was unable to move.

Upon discovering that he could not move, Harry felt the panic begin to set in. With out his wand, how would he slow his mad descent? And how could he begin to fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters? Just as he though he was about to slam in the ground, he suddenly began to level out, and slow down. He let out a sigh of relief. Now, he was whipping through the streets, ten feet above the ground. He was coming ever closer to the source of the explosion.

Harry could no longer figure out whether this was a cream, or one of his visions, triggered by his magical link to Voldemort. He was more inclined to believe that this was a dream, because this was like no other link-induced vision he had ever experience. During most visions, Harry was Voldemort or at least some extension of the Dark Lord's spirit, usually the snake Nagini. This time, however, he was outside, and traveling without any link to the Dark Lord, or his pet snake.

_Not a pet, _he thought, _a Horcrux._ He knew that this dream may have only been brought on by his desire to confront and defeat Voldemort. Having once again deciding that this was a dream, he settled down once more, and began to enjoy the flight.

Even though Harry had relaxed considerably, the screams and explosions where still unsettling to him. He had almost reached a dozing state, when a familiar voice pierced that night sky. It was only then that he noticed he had slowed, and was circling above an empty street. Several houses on the block we aflame and cars were overturned up and down the street. But al that Harry noticed was the voice.

"Get back, you evil bastards!" came the outraged cry. It was a woman's voice. Harry knew he recognized it, but in his drowsy state, he couldn't quite but the voice to a face. That is, until he saw the mop of bushy brown hair. The sight of Hermione's familiar hair brought Harry fully attentive in seconds. He watched as the angered young witch let fly with a powerful array of spells, driving the surprised Death Eaters back a few paces. She even managed to bring one down, catching him in the chest with a _reducto_ curse, one so powerful that it left a smoking hole in the center of his chest.

Harry cheered aloud at her small victory. Once again, he went instinctively for his wand, hoping to help Hermione against the remaining to Death Eaters. And, once again, he found himself frozen by some external force. Cursing the infuriating dream, Harry decided that he had no choice except to watch his terrible dream unfold.

Hermione was fighting well, holding her own against the remaining two Death Eaters. Harry was beginning to believe that she would be able to win. He held onto the belief, until the familiar high cold voice rent the air.

"Time to die, Mudblood!" he roared, his voice grating Harry's nerves, and clutching his heart with fear at the same time. Voldemort stepped from the shadows, his wand leveled at Hermione's chest. Harry saw what was coming even before Voldemort began to mouth the words to the killing curse.

Harry screamed as Hermione's limp body tumbled against the pavement of the street.

Harry's scream traveled with him to the waking realm. He was covered in a light sheen of cold sweat, and he was panting. The light of early dawn streamed through his open window. Harry, still groggy, groped around with his hand, trying to find his glasses. He found them, and slid them onto his face, perching them high up on his nose. He was still breathing heavily, trying to shake off the vestiges of his dream. He could feel the details of the dream fading from him already, for which he was very thankful. Although he knew that logically, this was only a dream, he still felt a pressing need to speak with Hermione, so that he would know that she was ok. Checking the time on his alarm clock, he saw that it was still early in the morning. Contenting himself with the fact that it was only a dream, and Hermione was fine, Harry went off to the shower.

Harry was quickly in and out of the shower, but he made no effort to creep around silently as he usually would have done. He didn't care if he disturbed the Dursley's anymore. After he had gotten out of the shower, he spent a few moments examining his scar in the mirror. Normally, after one of his dream-visions, his scar hurt, and in extreme cases, it had even bled. Now, however, there was no trace of inflammation or bleeding. He was even more confident that the dream had been just that, a dream. All of the details of the dream had faded, leaving only the faint memories of feelings, like Hermione in trouble, and his fear for her.

After having brushed his teeth and trying futilely to tame his wild hair, Harry had gone back into his bedroom. He dressed quickly, throwing on some clothes, and then heading down to the kitchen. He didn't bother to take the usual precaution of being silent as he trod down the stairs.

He entered the kitchen, and began frying some bacon. He threw the slices into the frying pan, and went in search of some eggs. He found them, and threw them on in a separate pan. As he cooked, he glanced at the clock, wondering if it was late enough to call Hermione. The clock read 7:51.

_Too early, _Harry decided, _She is probably still fast asleep._ Deciding that he would call her when the clock hit ten, Harry sat down to have his bacon. While he munched, Harry tried to recall what exactly it was about his dream that had so unnerved him. No matter how hard he strained his mind, he could not recall a single detail of his nightmare.

_If I don't know what about the dream go me so worked up, what am I going to say to Hermione? If I just call her at random, with no explanation other than: 'I had a strange feeling that something bad had happened to you', she would think that I'm crazy_

With that thought in mind, he decided that calling her wasn't such a good idea, that and the fact that if he was to try and distance himself from his friends, then calling to say that he was worried about her wasn't the greatest course of action. It would show them that he cared about them, and make it hard for them to believe that he hated them.

Now that he had decided that he wasn't going to call Hermione, his thoughts turned back to his resolution not to be friends with his friends anymore. If he was to do that, he would need to isolate himself from them. The best place to do that would be 12 Grimmauld Place. Sirius' old house could only be reached if they knew where to find it, and had been given permission to enter it by the Secret Keeper of the house. The flaw in Harry's plan was that Dumbledore, the former Secret Keeper of 12 Grimmauld Place had told both Ron and Hermione the location of the house, and as such they would be able to find the house. Harry did not realize, that with the death of Albus Dumbledore, the Fidelus Charm placed on the Black Mansion had faded away, leaving the place open for all to find, even though it was still riddled in other protective magicks.

Instead of cleaning up as normal, Harry just dumped his dirtied plate in the sink, leaving it for his inconsiderate relatives to deal with. He had spent so many years cleaning up after them; they could handle one plate he left out. He retreated back into his room, and threw himself onto his bed. He could hardly believe what he was planning to do. He was going to abandon his friends, people who had stayed with him since the day they had fought the Troll in the Bathroom during their first year. Although they had had their fair share of problems, like Hermione and Ron's fight of Crookshanks and Scabbers, Harry and Ron's fourth year fight, and Harry and Hermione's fight over the Firebolt that Sirius had sent to Harry from Christmas in third year, they had always resolved their problems, even if the resolution involved some childish backstabbing, jealousy inducing, or attacks using small, yellow birds, they had always come back together.

He thought of Ron, his tall lanky friend, always jealous of Harry's fame and accomplishments. He felt overshadowed by Harry's unasked for greatness, his supreme Quidditch skills and his magical skill, which was greater than Ron's. Harry focused on this irritating quality, trying to force himself to hate Ron. Although he was trying, his mind kept turning to the great times they had spent together, like the Quidditch World Cup (except for the Death Eater part), and all the time spent at the Burrow, or playing Wizard's Chess in the Gryffindor common room. He shook his head, and pushed Ron away.

Inevitably, his thoughts next turned to Hermione. She was a bushy haired know-it-all, but she was Harry's best friend. Although she had spent several hours tormenting Harry, by doing things like not letting him copy her homework, dragging him through her crazed S.P.E.W. efforts, and mainly, being so insensitive when it came to Quidditch. The biggest gripe he could come up with was the fact that she had tried to take his Firebolt away, although she had failed. Shaking his head again, he stood up, and headed downstairs again. As he went down the stairs, he was still thinking about his friends, and not paying attention. His foot missed the last step, and he crashed onto the floor. Cursing his bad fortune, he struggled upright. He realized that he was bleeding from the chin, and went for his wand to fix it. He stopped for a second, thinking that he would be expelled from Hogwarts if he used magic outside of school again.

Shrugging his shoulders, he decided that he wasn't returning so a little magic wouldn't hurt. Besides, the Ministry probably had too much to deal with without worrying about magic used by underage wizards and witches. Catching Voldemort and his Death Eaters was probably consuming all their resources. He pulled out his wand, and muttered a few quick words that Hermione had taught him. Even the simple spell reminded him of her, and all his other friends at Hogwarts.

He sigh, frustrated. If every single thing that he did reminded him of his time at the school, how would he ever be able to carry through with his plan to escape the memories of his friends? Sighing, Harry glanced at the clock, noticing that it had now made it passed 8:30. He had to wait twenty four hours in the house, so that the ancient magic that had been instilled by his mother's sacrifice would still be valid for another year. He still had several uneventful hours to pass in the Dursley residence. Sighing, he headed back up to his room, determined to do some studying of his spell books.

Time warping for progression. And I'm too lazy to write several hours worth of material

The moment the clock struck 5:01, Harry's foot was out the door of number four Privet Drive. He had, under his arm, his broom, with his fully laden trunk attached to it by cord. Walking into the Dursley's back yard, and threw his invisibility cloak over his shoulders, and mounted the broom-trunk. Lifting off the ground, Harry set off towards number twelve, Grimmauld Place. He climbed as high as he could, leaving the streets displayed below him like a grid. He knew that being in the open was a risky business, especially since Voldemort was bound to be expending all his resources to find and destroy his arch-nemesis.

Harry had been flying for almost an hour, when the vaguely familiar layout of Grimmauld Place took form beneath him. Tucking in his arms and legs, Harry dropped into a steep, spiraling dive. As he descended, Harry relished the feeling of the wind whipping past his face. He approached the ground, and leveled off, a tight turn setting him in front of the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry dismounted silently, crossing the short expanse left across the road, and then across the tatty, ill kept lawn in front of the Black Mansion. He stepped up to the door, and knocked hard. He waited a few seconds, and then the door was opened a crack, and a creepy, electric blue eye peered out of the gap.

"Potter!" growled the gruff voice of Alistair Moody, as he swung the door wide, and grabbed Harry by the arm, pulling him roughly inside.

"What the hell are you doing alone out in the open? Haven't you learned a thing, boy? You're a marked man!" Moody roared in Harry's face, spittle spraying from his mouth. Harry stepped back, and raised his hand to wipe the spittle from his face.

"I needed to get here, and I didn't want all the fanfare that the Order has deemed necessary for me to travel with. I got here, didn't I? And I think that I have proven myself more then capable of protecting myself on numerous occasions! I'm not a child!" Harry shouted back. Grabbing hold of the still levitating broom, Harry headed for the stairs. He ascended the stairs without incident, having half expected Moody to continue with a follow-up lecture. Apparently, Harry's rebuttal had shut him up.

Harry headed straight into his room, and dropped his trunk to the floor, and severed the cables that were holding the contraption together with a swift wave of his wand. He walked past the trunk, and sat down on his bed. As he settled in on the bed, he realized how exhausted his was. He lay down on the bed, and stretched himself to the fullest. Within the span of two minutes, he was asleep, safe in his fortress of solitude.

A\N: Well, there is another chapter… sorry it took so long. But it is a little longer then the last one. I really wanted to put up another chapter, so I'm cutting this one a little short. I promised you another character, and you got Moody. Next chapter shoud contain Hermione. Hope you enjoyed, read and review.

Dave


	4. Chapter Three: A Fortress Besieged

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, places, or ideas brought from the series by J.K Rowling. Other then that, they are mine.

A/N: Thanks to those of you who reviewed. That last chapter is still setting in motion the events that will happen for the first while.

**Chapter Three: A Fortress Besieged**

Harry awoke with sunlight in his eyes. He rolled over, pulling his sheets up to cover his head, blocking out the light. He was shocked by how large his bed was, and it came to him that this was not his bed. He began to panic, thinking that perhaps he had been taken by Voldemort, before he remembered were he was. He remembered his long, cold flight to the Black Mansion, and the brief fight with Moody in the entrance way of the house. With a sigh, he pushed back the covers, and threw his feet out of bed. He stood up, stretched and went to close the blinds on the window, despite the fact that none of the neighbors could actually see the house, thanks to its numerous charms.

As he shut the blinds, Harry realized that he had fallen asleep fully clothed. With a sigh of disgust, Harry stripped his clothes, and dropped them in a heap on the floor. He went into the bathroom, and started up the shower. He spent a good minute or so searching his trunk for shampoo and body-wash. As he straightened, he noticed that his clothes had disappeared from the floor. Raising an eyebrow, Harry decided that he would look into it after his shower. As he entered the bathroom, he was greeted by a warm wall of steam. Sighing contentedly, he stepped under the shower head, and relished in the warm water.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he wrapped himself instantly in another towel. The bedroom was freezing compared to the warmth of the steam-filled bathroom. He dried and dressed quickly, before setting off to find the suspected clothes thief. He threw on a blue casual dress shirt, and a pair of black shorts. After spending a futile minute trying to tame his unruly raven hair, Harry threw down the comb in frustration, and stalked out of the room.

The hallway was even colder than the bedroom. _Couldn't anyone in this house learn to keep it warm? _Harry thought to himself. _I definitely should have put pants on._ He considered returning to the room for a moment, but decided that he would tough it out. Besides, he was on a mission. Harry descended the staircase, putting himself on the first floor of the Black Mansion. This time he noticed how vastly different it was then the last time he had been there, in his fifth year. Back then, the hallway had been a dank and dingy place, where one had to tread carefully, lest one should awaken the screaming portrait of Sirius' mother, Mrs. Black. Harry looked at the space of wall that should have contained the portrait. There was a large burn mark, and part of the wall had caved in. It appeared that someone had refused to tolerate one too many racist out bursts. Harry grinned at the thought of Lupin, Tonks, or one of the Weasleys pulling there wand, and blasting the screaming picture to hell. With the grin still on his face, Harry turned and headed toward the kitchen, convince that he might be able to find the clothes thief lurking about somewhere nearby.

He pushed open the door forcefully, causing it to bang against the door, drawing the attention of the room's occupants. He was greeted by the surprised faces of Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, and the completely calm face of Alastor Moody. Harry wondered for a moment why he wasn't surprised by Harry's entrance, before realizing that he had watched his approach with his horrifying electric blue eye. Harry, normally disgusted, and awed, by the disturbing feature, was now pondering the possible uses of such a device. Being able to see behind your back, and through walls, could be very advantageous during a close quarters fight.

Dismissing the thought, Harry stepped into the room, and headed for the table, deciding that a spot of breakfast before a little hunting wouldn't hurt. He grabbed some toast off the plate that sat in the center of the table, and began munching. He looked around at the others, and swallowed his bite of toast.

"How are you doing today, Harry?" Lupin asked kindly, obviously surprised that Harry was at the Order Headquarters. Harry guessed that Moody had failed to inform the others of Harry's late night arrival. If Moody had felt that Harry's presence in the mansion wasn't vital information to someone, he would not have told them. Harry was willing to bet a pound to a penny that McGonagall knew that he was there.

"I'm doing… ok." Harry replied, truthfully. For all that he had decided he must do, and the difficulty he knew he was about to experience, he felt surprisingly light hearted. He smiled at Lupin, the first real smile he had given since Dumbledore's fall.

"I feel fine. I'm just a little tired. It was a long, cold trip over here. You remember the flight from the Dursley's, don't you?" Harry asked. He clearly remembered the long cold flight, surrounded by an Order body guard, with Moody and Lupin in command. That had been the first time that he had visited the Order's Headquarters, and he had loved the place, despite the fact that it had been dingy and dank. He had loved it because it had been to home to Sirius, and to his friends, who he had been mad at, to begin with, before learning the true reason behind their vagueness and lack of contact. They had been in the headquarters all along, and had been sworn to secrecy.

In response to Harry's question, Lupin nodded dumbly. Clearly, he was still slightly in shock about Harry's sudden appearance. Tonks smacked him on the arm, hard. Harry couldn't help but laugh at the new couple.

"Well, it was that same, only I didn't fly as high, so I wasn't as cold." He said with a laugh. The last time he had made the long trip, he has nearly frozen to his broom handle.

"Wotcher, Harry." greeted him cheerfully. It appeared that her powers were fully back under her control. Her hair was a brilliant bubblegum pink, sticking everyway off her head, and her eyes were a matching shade of purple. She wore a wide grin plastered on her face. Harry was glad that she was back to normal. Last year, seeing Tonks so depressed had been very odd, as she was one of the most exuberant and excitable people that Harry had ever met. "What are you doing here?" She asked bluntly.

Harry sighed, wondering why in fact he had come here. He was trying to escape everyone, yet he had come to the most central gathering place of all those who would like to help him.

"To get away," He replied, equally as blunt, "from Ron, and Hermione, and everyone else who will get hurt trying to help me." His voice almost cracked, as memories of lost loved ones broiled to the surface. He saw the ghostly images of his mother and father rushing at the newly reborn Dark Lord. He saw Sirius body falling through the gently rippling veil, with its whispering voices. And lastly, he saw Dumbledore, tumbling broken over the edge of the astronomy tower. He shook his head to rid himself of his memories.

He knew that these people gathered at the table were among those that he would be forced to abandon. They would not let him go lightly. The problem was, Harry couldn't just throw Remus and Tonks out of the house, but he had nowhere to go either.

_I guess my mission will just have to be done stealthily. They can't know what I'm doing, else they will insist on helping. The last two Horcruxes combined to bring down Dumbledore. They will probably claim other lives as well. The only life they will claim will be mine, or Voldemort's. _Harry thought. He knew that he could not stand another death on his conscience.

Harry looked across the table, locking his gaze with Remus, and then Tonks. He held their gaze for few seconds. They looked back at him puzzled.

"I need to ask a favor of you both. No matter what, you cannot tell Ron or Hermione where I am. I don't want them getting hurt. They will be better off without me." Harry said, face deadly serious. Remus shook his head, and began to protest.

"Harry, they're your friends. They will want to help you. They will-" He stopped, interrupted by Tonks' hand laid gently on his arm.

"Of course, Harry. We won't say a thing to them. Will we?" she said, looking at Remus, eyebrow arched, as if challenging him to defy her. He looked for a moment like he might, but he sighed and bowed his head.

"Of course." He muttered, patting her hand on his arm. He grabbed up a piece of toast, and bit into it, as if to forestall him from making further arguments.

"Thank you both" Harry said, with a small smile. He knew that they both were not happy with the decision, but he trusted them to honor their words, and say nothing to his two best friends. Harry drew a long draught from the glass of water in front of him. Then he pushed back from the table, and headed to the hallway. Instead of returned to his room like he had intended, he turned off and headed into the room that had previously contained all of the Black heirlooms.

The shelves that had lined the room were gone, replaced instead with a several full length glass cabinets that were filled with all sorts of odd things. One of them was filled full of cloaks, full length and black. Another contained gloves and hats, also black. The hats, gloves and cloaks all had the same design embroidered upon them; a golden slash, thickening from bottom to top, going left to right. Harry looked at them for a while, before moving on. The next contained what appeared to be all of Dumbledore's old instruments. Some of them were still whirring and whistling quietly. The next was the final one to contain anything. It had a number of oddities inside. There was the Sword of Gryffindor, the other two way mirror, that had once belonged to Sirius, a ring set with a ruby, that glowed fiercely, obviously enchanted, and a bracelet with empty jewel sets. Harry's eyes slide over the other articles, but they always slid back to the mirror. Harry had always had this feeling that if Sirius had been holding it as he passed through the veil, then Harry would still have been able to speak with him. Harry figured that he should go and get the second mirror of the pair, and place it in the cases.

As he left the room, we wondered what the enchanted ruby ring did. He had never really seen an object that was so obviously enchanted. Cheating quills and self correcting ink all _looked_ normal, but had magical properties. He figured he would have to ask around to find out the abilities of the ring.

He plodded up the stairs, and entered his room. He crossed over to his trunk, and threw it open, the lid banging against the foot of his bed and bouncing back closed, catching his hand between the lid and the box's rim.

"Damn!" He yelled, pulling his hand free, and shaking it around. He let out a steady stream of curses as he pulled his trunk forward a bit, and then opened it again, more carefully this time. Still grumbling he searched through the trunk with his left hand, keeping his tender right hand in the air, shaking it around. He pulled out most of his clothes, dumping them unceremoniously on the floor. He continue rooting, pulling out his cauldron and potions ingredients, and setting them on his dresser. Finally, after dumping out over half of the contents of his trunk on the floor, or somewhere in his room, he pulled out the mirror. He tossed it onto his bed, and began to shove clothes from the floor into drawers.

When he was done, he set up his cauldron on the desk, spreading out the ingredients. If he was to fight Voldemort and his cronies, then he would certainly have need of some potions. Without Hermione, or the Half Blood Prince, he would have to rely on himself to produce potions. He had never been an excellent brewer, but now these potions could mean life and death. Afterwards, he flopped down on his bed, and thumbed through his potions text, noting down ingredients that he would need to make some potions, from simple healing potions, to Felix Felicitis.

He knew that he would have to head to Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade to find these ingredients. Diagon Alley would be best, but the chances of running into Ron or Hermione, or one of his other friends. He knew that going to Hogsmeade might not yield the best results, but avoiding the others was more important to him. He could hardly believe how dedicated he had become to his plan. He hated himself for it.

Folding the parchment neatly, he slid it into his pocket, and vaulted off his bed and turned to his trunk. He shuffled through its already strewn contents, and pulled out his money pouch. He turned and left the room. As he was descending the stairs, he glanced at the dried house elves' heads, which had surprisingly survived the purge of cleaning. Watching the small, wizened heads, he remembered the missing pile of clothes from his floor that morning. He twined his fingers and cracked the knuckles.

"Kreacher!" he roared. He stood in the stairwell for several moments, before a loud crack, followed by a string of muttered curses filled the hall. The small grubby house elf shuffled its feet, eyeing Harry with the utmost contempt.

"Nasty blood traitor. Is he even a pureblood? No, no, he must be a Mudblood." Harry heard this entire muttered conversation.

"Kreacher! Hold your tongue" He snapped. Stupidly, the elf pulled the tongue from his mouth and held to it, making obscene gesture with is other hand. Harry shook his head, disgustedly.

"I just meant shut up." He told the elf, who released his tongue, and remained silent. Harry knew that the creature hated its new master (Harry), more then it had hated Sirius before him. Harry had heard him pining away for his 'mistress', Sirius' mother.

"Kreacher, where are my clothes?" Harry asked, drawing put the words in a slow, menacing manner. The house elf threw Harry a disgusted look, then it switched its gaze back to the floor.

"Filthy boy is wearing his filthy Mudblood clothes." Kreacher answered, impudently. Harry felt his temper rise, and he dealt the pitiful creature a stinging backhand.

"You will not say Mudblood again in the presence of any living creature. If you utter the word, I command you to end you life." He ordered, voice seething with barely contained rage. The word 'Mudblood' set off memories of Malfoy, and then memories of Dumbledore. He stopped himself, refusing to let his mind wander down those dark corridors, which led only to despair.

"Not the ones I'm wearing. The clothes that were on my floor this morning. You know what happened to them. Only you could have gotten into my room. Where are they?" Harry demanded. Kreacher shuffled his feet, and looked around, like a cornered animal searching for an escape. He was also searching, seeing if he could find a gap that he could exploit in Harry's wording.

"They were taken, yes. Taken from the filthy…" he trailed off, unable to say his favorite insult. Harry sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated. He thought for a second, framing the next sentence in a legal sort of language, one that the sneaky house elf could not misinterpret.

"Who took the clothes that were piled on the floor of my bedroom this morning, while I was in the shower, and where were they taken to?" Harry asked, his words once again filled with barely contained menace. At this, the house elf began to hop about frustrated, clearly not wanting to reveal the answer, but bound by magic to do so.

"Kreacher took the filthy boy's clothes." He stuttered out at last, "He placed the in his sleeping area." He stood there, shoulders slumped, defeated. Harry felt absolutely no pity for the despicable creature. He shook his head.

"Go, and bring them back to me within the next thirty seconds." He commanded, waving his hand, dismissing him. Another loud crack filled the stairwell, and then Harry was alone. He switched his gaze back to one of the shrunken house elf heads.

"Were you this much trouble to your masters?" he asked it. The head continued to gaze at Harry, its eyes looking straight ahead, with a stupid grin on its face, caused by the contracted skin. Harry studied it for a few more seconds, before he was brought back to his senses by another crack. The house elf stood two steps below him, holding out a now filthy bundle of clothes. Harry took them, hold the bundle away from his body, trying not to spread the filth to what he was wearing now.

"Leave." He said. The house elf disappeared, and Harry turned and trudged back up the stairs. He opened his door, and threw the bundle inside, on the floor. Shutting the door, he headed for the stairs. This time, he made it all the way down to the ground floor, and almost to the door before something caused him to stop. The sound of Lupin's voice.

"Harry, where are you going?" He asked, his voice concerned, sounding awfully like a parent would had just caught his child sneaking out of the house. Harry, frozen in his tracks, turned back to face him.

"I was just going to head out to Hogsmeade for a while. I needed to pick up some things for potions, and a few quills and what not." Harry answered, seeing now purpose in lying to him. Remus gave him a strange look, obviously thinking that Harry was lying to him.

"Why not go to Diagon Alley? It's a much better place for shopping then Hogsmeade." Lupin said, probing gently for information.

"I just…" Harry broke off; having no answer that he could really give Lupin. "I didn't want to run into anyone, alright?" Harry asked, locking his eyes with those of the werewolf. Lupin nodded, understanding. He had spent his whole life being shunned by the wizarding community. He understood the desire for solitude better then most people.

"Let me grab my cloak. I'm coming along." He said. Harry knew that he couldn't say no, and frankly, he would be glad of the company. Heading out on his own would have been reckless. The streets of London, and all of Britain were crawling with Death Eaters, and people just taking advantage of the chaos left in the wake of Voldemort's attacks.

About a half an hour later, Harry and Lupin where stepping off the Knight Bus, in front of the Three Broomsticks. The weather was warm, but rain pounded down on them. They hustled into the pub, and Lupin hurriedly ordered a couple of butterbeers. Harry found them a table in the far back corner the pub. He hoped to stay hidden. He didn't want anyone noticing him.

Lupin came over with two bottles. Sitting down, he slid one across the table to Harry, and uncorked his own bottle. He looked around, taking a swig from the bottle. He had never seen the Three Broomsticks this empty. The tables were still mostly filled, but the barstools were pretty much empty. Although, each time that Harry had been here, the place had been full of Hogwarts students, occupying every available inch of space.

Every witch or wizard in the pub had a wary look about them. There were no friendly conversations between people at different tables. The atmosphere was oppressed. Everyone shot each other suspicious looks, secretly wondering if the man or woman at the next table was a servant of the Dark Lord. Harry turned his attention back to the shabby man at his table.

"Where did this storm come from?" Harry asked. The weather this morning had been pleasant, the sun shining high in the sky. Now, iron grey clouds filled the sky from horizon to horizon, sending torrents of icy cold rain to lash the country side.

"Surprising, isn't it? I was expecting a nice day." Lupin remarked, a small smile. Harry laughed, and the sound seemed out of place in the quiet, close atmosphere of the bar. Their world was at war, and they were in a pub, drinking butterbeers, and chatting about the weather. Harry had to laugh.

"Yes." Harry responded. "I need to go to the Apothecary in town. I was going to visit Honeydukes, as well. I thought that some candy would be nice." Lupin gave him a look. "Ok, a _lot_ of candy." Harry said, smiling. He couldn't remember a time in that last few weeks when smiles had come so easily to his face.

"Well, let's finish these up," he said, lifting the bottle a few inches from the table, "and then we can head back out into the maelstrom of water." He tilted the bottle back, and drained a significant portion of the liquid. Harry took a quick pull from his bottle, and then set it back on the table.

"So, Professor. How's… everything?" Harry asked, somewhat awkwardly. He was wondering what would happen with the Order since Dumbledore's death. Lupin's small smile disappeared, and he pressed his lips together.

"Well. Everything… is different. Without Albus, everything is different. We'll keep fighting, of course. We are the only line between the Voldemort and the rest of the world. And not just the wizarding world, Harry. Both worlds. Everyone thinks that this battle, this war, only affects us. The Muggles know that things are going on. The bridge collapse last summer, the explosions that have wracked London for the last few days. It's setting the Muggles at each others throats. They are wary, watching out for things. The Muggle Prime Minister has been pushing the ministry for answers, and results. He has threatened to go public with the information of our existence. No one will believe him, of course, but it's still a nuisance.

"If we cannot stop him, and soon, this will mean more then just the end of the wizarding world's existence as we know it. It will mean the end of everything on this planet. The entire world will be subjugated. And there will be killings, millions of killings, Harry. He'll kill the Muggles. Every one of them. Their resistance will be pointless. By the time that he finishes with us, the Muggles will have torn themselves apart with their wars." He trailed off, having said everything that was one his mind. Harry sat their, mind racing, absorbing all the information that Lupin had just said.

He had never thought about the implications to the Muggles, nor to anyone beyond Britain. He had always thought of Voldemort as a problem that would have to be faced here, upon the Isles.

_But Karkarov was not British. I doubt if he set foot on the Isles except for the occasional summons from Voldemort. They say Durmstrang is a dark place. Perhaps Voldemort's influence is strong in other regions of the world as well._ Harry thought, his mind now opening to a million possibilities. He might have to chase Voldemort across the world, from London, to the Pyramids of Egypt, to America.

"Then we have to stop him. Here, before his taint spreads beyond England, and into the world." Harry said. Lupin smiled a sad smile, and shook his head.

"I'm afraid it's far too late for that. You see, England is the greatest magical power in the world at the moment. Sure, it's rivaled by America. But there are those countries that remember their days of glory. Egypt, China, Italy. These empires once stood as crowning jewels of magical might. The pharaohs wielded their magic with terrifying efficiency. They carved the Pyramids with nothing but their staffs, and raw magical power. The Greeks at Thermopylae. Everyman in that force was a wizard, Harry. They wielded their spell forged swords with such prowess. They held out for days. These glorious empires have all come to ruin.

"Surely you have realized that in time, England will fall. Voldemort is the cancer that dwells in the heart of our magical community. Dumbledore was the brightest light against the darkness that has for so long threatened to envelop the magical world." Lupin paused and drank deep. Setting the bottle down with deliberate care, he continued.

"You see, within these fallen empires, there are wizards that dream of a day when they might rule the Muggles as their ancestors once did, with terror and iron handedness. It is from among these wizards that Voldemort garners his power. Even the 'purebloods' in Britain think that we should rule the Muggles, not hide from them. These wizards are people like Lucius Malfoy. They are evil, Harry, because they believe in a cause that endorses murder, and torture." He stopped now, spent. Harry held his breath, waiting for more to come. Nothing did.

"You've thought a lot about this haven't you." Harry asked, his voice somber. Lupin gave him a weak smile and nodded.

"Of course. Sometimes, I feel like I'm the only one who thinks about it this deeply. Albus and I used to have long conversations about things like this." Lupin drained the last of his butterbeer, and dropped the bottle to the table with a clink. Harry saw that he was done, and lifted the bottle to his lips, and tilted his head back, and swallowed the rest of his drink.

"Let's go." Harry said to him, slipping back into his cloak. They headed back towards the door in silence. Harry kept his eyes toward the ground, hoping that no one would recognize him as he passed out of the bar. He caught a few glances coming his way, but he thought they were merely cursory glances at a stranger. As he looked, he caught someone's eye, and watched as they did the normal flicker up to his forehead. His eyes widened, and he looked away, leaning close to his friend next to him, whispering excitedly. Harry ducked his head, and pushed his way out of the bar.

He was greeted by a wash of cold rain, spraying him the face. He bowed his head even further, and began to walk. He glanced sideways, and saw that Lupin was not beside him. He looked back, and saw that he was just coming out of the pub. Harry stopped in the middle of the street, and yelled back to Lupin.

"Hurry up, Moony! It's freezing out here! Not to mention wet!" Harry roared over the sound of the rain and the wind. Lupin waved a hand dismissively, and hustled out after Harry. His head was bowed against the rain as well. He caught up with Harry, and looked over.

"So, where to, Harry?" Lupin asked. Harry gaped at him. He had been expecting an explanation of what had detained him, but Lupin appeared in no hurry to divulge it. Harry stared for a second, and then pushed it from his head.

"The apothecary, then Florish and Blotts, then Honeydukes." Harry told him. He stopped, looking up and down the street, and he realized that they had headed the wrong way for the apothecary, but that Honeydukes was a just a few dozen feet away.

"Honeydukes instead" Harry said, pulling Lupin along through the rain, and through a large number of puddles. They burst through the door into the store, accompanied by a blast of icy wind, and a spray of cold water. Pushing the door closed, Lupin fixed Harry with a cold stare.

"You know, I was wet enough before you dragged me through all those puddles, Harry." He said, irritation filling his normally taciturn voice. He shook his arms, spraying water all over the place. Harry snorted in amusement.

"Try not acting like such an animal, Moony" he replied, laughing. The professor realized that he was shaking himself free of water droplets, and he stopped, and looked around, a little embarrassed. Harry patted him on the shoulder.

"There's a good boy." Harry quipped, dodging back as Lupin's hand came around to try and smack him. Harry laughed even harder.

"Too slow, old man." He breathed between bouts of laughter. He didn't even notice Lupin's other hand come whipping about. He was taken completely by surprise when it connected with the side of his head. He stopped laughing, and looked up at Lupin, completely shocked. The shabby werewolf had a very smug look on his face.

"Apparently, I'm quick enough for you, Potter." He said, his voice containing more then a trace of animalistic growl. They held each other's gaze for a moment, before dissolving into helpless peels of laughter. Harry clapped his hand on Lupin's shoulder, and Lupin like wise clapped Harry on the shoulder.

A cough from the counter drew their attention. The proprietor of the store stood looking with disgust at the two men dripping upon his door mat.

"Are you here to make purchases, or are you here to fool around like a pair of idiots?" He demanded. He was looking very impatient. Harry and Lupin sobered up fast, trying hard not to laugh.

"Yes, we will be making purchases, sir." Lupin said, very politely. Harry contained a laugh at Lupin's very forced politeness. They moved further into the shop, and began to choose what candies they wanted.

Almost an hour later, the emerged from the sweet shop toting two monstrous bags between them. Both of them were grinning like kids in a candy store. They were chatting amiably, remembering things from times past, like when Harry had crushed Malfoy and his cronies with his patronus during the Quidditch match third year. The rain was still coming down, although it had lightened considerably. They hustled on down toward the apothecary.

Harry and Lupin returned to the Black Mansion a few hours after they left, laden down by a few bags, most of them containing the sweets they had purchased at Honeydukes. It was a little after six in the evening. Harry rubbed his stomach, hungry.

"Oi Tonks, how 'bout some dinner?" Harry roared, as Lupin laughed at his side. Tonks poked her head from the kitchen door, and threw an evil glare down the hallway.

"Harry! How dare you be so impolite!" Harry pointed to his side, diverting her wrath onto her boyfriend at his side. Her eyes narrowed, and her hair shot out, darkening angrily at the tips.

"Remus!" she hissed. He stopped laughing instantly. He cast a glance at Harry, who was now laughing at his friend's predicament.

"Traitor" Lupin muttered, before turning to try and sooth his angered girlfriend. "Yes, dear?" He asked, scooting down the hallway, and into the kitchen. Harry shook his head, laughing, and followed his friends into the kitchen. The placed was a bit of a disaster zone. Tonks, it appeared was not much use at cooking.

Lupin had already relegated her to a chair at the table, and had taken over the task of cooking. He had a piece of beef roasting in the oven, and was in the process of making mashed potatoes. Harry stepped over to help him.

Dinner was a simple affair of roast beef, mashed potatoes and peas and carrots. Harry wolfed down two helpings of the delicious fare. The three of them discussed everything that had happened over the course of the day. Harry and Lupin left out their conversation in the Three Broomsticks. They had not talked about it since, and they had come to a silent accord that it was something they would not bring it up again.

Harry helped the Tonks and Lupin clean up, and then wished the two of them goodnight. He left the kitchen, and headed back up to his room. When he reached his bedroom, he dumped his bag of potions ingredients on the ground next to the desk in his room. He pulled a few out, and set them up on the desk. He got bored halfway through, and threw himself down on the bed, pushing all the books to the floor. He pulled off his clothes, and dumped them on the foot of his bed.

_Hopefully, these won't be stolen by the despicable creature._ He thought, and he chuckled, before crawling under the covers.

Harry was having a very nice dream. He couldn't quite remember the details, although he remembered that it was making him feel good. Very good. He knew what woke him up though. A loud pounding on the door.

"Harry! Harry Potter!" Shouted a voice from behind the door.

"Oh shit!" Harry said, rolling over and placing the pillow over his head.

A/N: Ok, REALLY sorry about how long this one took. I had a lot going on this summer, from pretty much the day I last post until today. I did about 3000 words(out of 5600) for this chapter today.

Well, read and review flame if you must.

Dave


	5. Chapter Four: The Breaking of a Fortress

Disclaimer: Nothing by Rowling belongs to me. 'Nuff said.

A/N: Thanks to those of you that reviewed.

**Chapter Four: Breaking of a Fortress**

Harry kept the pillow over his head, willing the knocker to go away. However, she persisted ruggedly, banging on his door. He could tell by the heat on his bed that the sun had come up, and that it was day outside. He groaned, and shifted in his bed. He was now hoping that this was just a dream, and that she wasn't really outside the door.

However, he knew that she would not go away, nor was this a dream. He groaned again, and pulled himself out of bed. He couldn't sleep through all the noise, but he sure as hell could ignore it. He stomped across the room, and into the bathroom.

He emerged back into his bedroom about half an hour later, after a particularly warm and relaxing shower. He was wrapped in a towel. Drying off quickly, he dressed in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. He sat at the desk he had prepared for potions. He was thumbing lazily through the potions book when he noticed that the thumping had stopped.

_Perhaps it was just a dream, or a lingering from a dream._ Harry thought. He smiled, content that he had just imagined her pounding on the door. He turned his attentions back to the text, but was unable to focus. He rubbed his rumbling stomach, and decided that he wanted some breakfast. He padded barefoot across the room, and slid out of the door. He left the door ajar, too lazy to close it. He descended the stairs, conscious of the layer of dust and grim underfoot. Apparently the house elf had been shirking his duties in cleaning. Harry decided that he would deal with the mutinous creature after some food.

He pushed open the kitchen door and was greeted by the smell of cooking bacon and eggs. He drew a deep breath, and stepped even further into the kitchen. It was empty but for Lupin and Tonks. Harry had had a nagging feeling in the back of his head that he would find his friends in the kitchen, waiting to ambush him. However, the kitchen was blissfully free of them.

Lupin was at the cooker, frying and flipping with efficiency. A grumpy looking Tonks was sitting at the table; chin nestled in her hands, eyes downcast.

"Mmm… Smells brilliant, Remus." Harry said cheerfully. His stomach rumbled loudly at the smell of food. Harry sat down next to Tonks, and clapped her on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, Tonks. You do know that mot women enjoy it when men cook for them?" Harry asked, a smile playing about his lips. Tonks looked up, and grinned back.

"I know. But I _can_ cook! Remus just won't let me at the cooker." She whined. Remus looked over his shoulder, and grinned at Harry.

"You saw her last night. Completely hopeless." He laughed. He ducked as Tonks hurled the salt shaker at him. Remus caught it with a quick flick of his wand. He sent the thing zipping back with another flick. Tonks caught it with her wand, and guided it down to the table. Harry laughed.

"Wasn't that a bit childish, Nymphadora?" Remus demanded, arms crossed, and face creased in a frown. Tonks looked shocked. She thought that Remus was actually angry. She began to sputter excuses before she realized that the frown was gone, and a smile was creeping across the werewolf's face. She leapt up from the table, and rounded it in an instant. She punched him in the arm, hard.

"You bugger!" She hissed, hitting him again. Remus just laughed. Harry joined him. Tonks rounded on him, and drew up, looking an awfully lot like Mrs. Weasley about to burst into a good yell. Harry just kept laughing, and Tonks drew up short, finger raised, ready to lecture. She stopped, and looked around, as if realizing what she was doing. A slow smile spread over her face, and she began to laugh. The three of them laughed together.

"You looked like Molly when she's about to yell at the twins." Remus breathed between fits of laughter. Tonks tried to glower at him, but the effect was somewhat ruined by her smile. She only succeeded in looking insane. This made the trio laugh harder. The laughter continued for close to another minute before it died out entirely. They all had tears rimming their eyes, and their sides hurt.

By this time, the breakfast was prepared. The broke their fast upon a simple meal of toast, sausages and hash browns. Harry gobbled the meal down, and excusing himself, set off into the house. He moved out into the main hallway, and then cut off into the Black Family Library.

The Library was impressive. The room was rectangular; with a few alcoves on in the walls that each contained a desk, a lamp and a chair. In every available inch of wall between the alcoves, there were book shelves. Reaching from floor to ceiling, there was no flat piece of wall uncovered. A single stack of books ran through the center of the room, stopping about three feet from the wall on each edge of the room. The room was a good twenty feet long, and ten wide. Harry looked around. There were well over two thousand books within the Library.

Harry paused at the door, unsure of where to start. He had expected the library to be a small, close room, containing a couple dozen rare volumes on dark magic. He wasn't prepared for something like this. He took a breath, and headed into the room. The lamps in the alcoves flared to life, casting a flickering light into the room. Harry moved to the nearest stack, running his fingers along the spines of the books. Some of them shuddered, others let out low screams, as if aware that they were being touched, and were eager to be used.

Some of the book bindings were ancient. The leather was black, and the titles illegible on some of the older texts. In other places the titles were written in other languages. One book looked like it had been bound with a skin of some kind, and the title was written with blood. Harry knew that writing in blood was extremely painful for the writer. He rubbed at his hand, feeling the scars from his detentions with Umbridge in fifth year.

Harry squinted, trying hard to read the titles in the flickering light. With a sigh, he decided that he would be unable to accomplish it without the aid of some light. Sliding his wand from his pocket, he considered it for a moment. He was still underage, and was unable to use magic outside of school, on pain of expulsion. However, he had already decided that he would not be returning to the school, so whether or not they expelled him didn't really matter.

"Lumos" he muttered. The tip of his wand flared to life, casting a harsh, white light into the room. He stepped back from the books, able to read the titles clearly in the light.

_At least those titles that haven't faded away. _He thought. Harry skimmed along the book case, pulling a book from the shelves whenever the title caught his mind. One book, entitled _Imbuement of Darke Magick_ scorched his had when he tried to remove it from the shelf. He pulled his hand back, inspecting it. A few small blisters had risen along the palm of his hand. Growling, his clenched and unclenched his had.

When he had pulled out half a dozen books, he moved to the nearest alcove and deposited the books on the desk. He adjusted the shutter on the lamp, and sat. As he did so, the lamps in all the other alcoves extinguished themselves, leaving the room behind Harry in darkness.

Harry looked warily over his shoulder. He could hear a faint rustling running among the shelves. It sounded like the books were talking, as if they knew that there was an intruder within their hallowed halls. Harry turned his attentions back to the pile of books. He pulled the first one, _A History of Dark Magic_, down from the pile, and opened it to the first page. There was no table of contents, and when he flicked to the back, there was no index either. Grumbling, he returned to the book, and began to skim the book.

_Dark Magic… ancient form… extreme power… defenses…portions of the soul… _As Harry read the last bit, he paused. His mind was racing, drawing the connections between that statement and the existence of Horcruxes. Harry was already about three quarters of the way through the text. He paused, and began to read the passage more carefully.

_The creation of items containing Dark Magic is often linked with the use of a certain spell. Some items, such as a Hand of Glory, require a spell, a sacrifice, and a victim. Often the sacrifice is a portion of a soul, piece of flesh or blood. _

The text continued, talking about various items that could be created with the use of dark magic. It also explained the creation of simple items, such as a Hand of Glory. Harry thought that the Hand must be a very useful tool, but the creation was vile. The creator had to cast the _Lumos_ spell, while touching the tip of his wand to the hand of the intended victim. Then, while still holding the spell, the creator was required to give a small sacrifice of his 'life force', while cutting off the hand form the victim. Harry shrank from the thought of performing such a vile act. He skimmed through the rest of the book, but nothing of relevance showed up in the book. Irritated, he placed the book to the side, and grabbed the next book. He skimmed it again, looking for key words; Horcrux(es), soul, sacrifice, murder.

Nothing in this book was useful, nor in any of the other books that he had. He stood, and the lights within the room flared back to life. He marked the books with a small glowing band of magic, and returned them to the shelf. He smiled, remembering Hermione's use of the spell during their escapade at the Department of Mysteries, and the battle in the Hall of Prophecy. His mind's eye glimpsed the arched for of Sirius slipping through the Veil. He closed his eyes, willing the image away. When his mind cleared, he smiled to himself, and grabbed another half dozen books. He returned to the desk, and the lights in the rest of the room extinguished themselves once again.

Harry came out of the library several hours later, and squinted against the brightness of the hallway. He had read almost thirty books, and none of them had proved useful in the slightest. Nothing about the Horcruxes had showed itself. Apparently any information on the Horcruxes was going to be exceptionally difficult to locate. Rubbing his eyes, he moved back towards the kitchen.

_Almost time for lunch._ Harry thought, rubbing his stomach, surprised by how hungry reading had gotten him. He shrugged his shoulders, and barreled through the kitchen door. The room was empty, but he didn't mind. He wanted time to formulate a research strategy, anyways. He found the bread, and made himself a sandwich. He thought about returning to the library to eat, but he wasn't sure exactly how sanitary that would be. His clothes were covered with dusty, and it fell from his hair with every movement.

As he sat munching away at his lunch, his mind wandered to the manner in which he had been woken. He had been sure that it had been her. He was confused as to why he had not heard anything since then. Shrugging, he decided that it had merely been a dream. He finished the remnants of his sandwich, and sent the plate into the sink with a flick of his wand.

He wondered as to why he had not yet received a message from the Ministry, considering that he had used magic several times over the course of the morning. He guessed that they a) didn't care b) couldn't find him or c) had more important stuff to worry about, like Voldemort. He guessed that it could also mean that they _couldn't_ expel him, because there was no more school. Even Professor McGonagall hadn't known whether or not the school would have stayed open.

The new Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was placed with an interesting predicament. The illustrious school was powerfully enchanted, and had formidable defenses. Also, it contained a staff of highly trained witches and wizards, who were capable fighters all. However, none of this had prevented the school from being infiltrated by Voldemort's followers, or Dumbledore's fall.

If she didn't reopen the school, then the wizarding world would suffer, as the newest batches of adult witches and wizards would be entering society with out a complete education. In troubled times such as these, all members of society should be as highly skilled as possible. If not, the Dark Lord will have an easier time subjugating later generations. If he ever truly accomplished his goal of immortality, there would be no skilled witched or wizards to stand against him in the coming years.

Conversely, if the school opened, valuable resources that should be pitted against the rising might of the Dark Lord would be diverted to the defense of Hogwarts. The Dark Lord would be best served to ignore the school, and let the aurors and professors that were there go to waste, their talents failing to contribute to the fight. Also, the school would undoubtedly have much lower attendance, as the mothers and fathers of the students would cling to the misguided ideal that by having their children close would protect them against the darkness that was encroaching on the world.

Harry had always known the wizarding world was in dire straights, since the moment he had seen the tall, pale form of Voldemort rising from the cauldron two years before. However, until his talk with Lupin the other day, he had not grasped the idea that these troubles extended beyond the wizarding world, and were affecting the Muggles in such profound ways.

Harry sprayed the plate with a jet of water from his wand, and put the thoughts of the school from his head, and left the kitchen. He headed back for the library, thinking to do some more research, but he hesitated, his hand inches from the door, ready to push it open. He changed his mind, and turned from the door. He turned, instead, for the stairs. He climbed them quickly, leaping up two at a time. He moved down the hallway quickly, and pushed the door to his room wide open.

He was still breathing fine, despite the fact that he had run all the way to his room. He had decided that he would do some potions work, and had wanted to get here before he changed his mind. He still hated potions, as they carried unpleasant memories of a dark dungeon, and a darker man. Severus Snape was the focal point of all of Harry's hatred. No man was as accursed as the traitor, Harry had heard said. He was going to make certain Snape felt cursed before he died. The punishments of the Dark Lord would be little when compared to the hell that Harry was going to subject him to.

Harry ran a finger along his wand, before pulling it from his pocket. He held it up, his eyes passing along its length. He gripped it tightly, and lifted it, pointing it towards the bed. A dozen curses and spells jumped to mind, and he uttered a word. The quilt exploded, cut to shreds by Harry's spell. Harry smiled at his choice of spell. Despite how much he hated Snape, the _Sectumsempra_ spell would be an undeniably useful tool in his fights against the forces of Voldemort. Harry waved his wand again, muttering the word for the repairing spell, and the sheet pulled itself back together. Harry smiled. He returned the wand to his pocket. He enjoyed the free reign he had at the house. He only saw the others at meal times, and they never really inquired as to what he did during the in between times.

Harry passed his remade bed, and sat at the desk, pulling the potions book close to him. He opened it, and began to flip through. He knew that Hermione would have been delighted by him today. She always bugged him to do more reading, and he had done little else during the day so far. He thumbed lazily through the text, bending the corners here and there to mark a page he wanted to stay on. He came to a stop on a page that read: _Minor Healing Potion: Used for removal of small abrasions and lacerations. _Harry read the ingredients and procedure, and decided the creation of the potion shouldn't be too difficult. He jabbed his wand under the cauldron, and set the magical fire blazing. He pointed his wand into the cauldron, and let a stream of water fill it up.

He began to pull out the ingredients he needed, and set to chopping, grinding, measuring and just generally preparing the ingredients. As the water gently began to boil, he applied the first ingredient, a powdered bezoar. The potion turned to an opaque yellow. He stirred it quickly, and then dumped in the next ingredient, a chopped root of some kind. The potion shimmered, and turned to a light, transparent yellow.

Harry checked the text. So far, he was still on track for the potion. Almost an hour had passed, and still he was on the right track. He had one ingredient left, and the potion was the correct shade of yellow. He picked up the final ingredient, a dark blue powder. Harry tipped the container into the bubbling liquid, and began stirring instantly. However, something was not right. The potion gave a belch of bright blue steam, and let off a stench that would have rivaled a garbage heap for supremacy. Instead of turning to a emerald green, the potion turned black, and solidified almost instantly. Harry tried to stir it, but the potion remained in its solid form. Grumpily, Harry pointed his wand at the black mess in his cauldron.

"Scourgefy" Harry mumbled. A portion of the mass disappeared, but ost of it clung to the sided of the cauldron. Harry cursed, and repeated the spell over and over, picking the mass apart piece by piece. It took him nearly twenty castings to clear the last remnants of the potion from the pot.

Aggravated, Harry pulled the text close, and read quickly. He realized that he had forgotten to take the potion off the flame before he had added the final ingredient. He pushed the book away, and filled the cauldron again. Pocketing his wand, he started chopping again.

About an hour later, Harry had a gently simmering pot of emerald green potion, with steam lifting in loose coils. It was giving a off a very sterile smell, that reminded Harry of a hospital. He smiled, happy. He had managed to create a good potion, without Hermione, and more importantly, without the Prince. As this thought flickered through his mind, he paused momentarily, wondering what had inspired Snape to start deviating from the instruction in the text. Harry decided that he would have to try and create his own methods of potion making, as well as creating his own spells.

He leaned over the potion, taking a look at it, and then glancing back to the description of the completed potion in the text. They matched perfectly. Harry needed a chance to test his new potion. However, he was, for once, completely and utterly uninjured. He went to a drawer on the desk, and pulled it open, revealing dozens of vials. He pulled out eight small vials. He shut that drawer, and opened the one below it, and pulled forth six bottles. He dipped a ladle into the cauldron, and lifted out some of the still steaming liquid. Holding his breath, he transferred the potion from the ladle into the vial, careful not to spill a drop on the desk.

"Very good, Harry." Said a voice from behind him. He froze, his ladle poised just above the liquid, preparing to take another ladleful. He stood there, refusing to turn around. If he ignored her, then perhaps she would go away.

"You know, just because you aren't looking at me, doesn't mean I'm going to disappear." They said again. The voice was sounding from the doorway. Harry had been praying all day that what he had heard this morning had merely been his imagination playing up; a dream that carried over into the waking realm. Apparently, she had really been outside his door, pounding on it.

Still refusing to look at her, Harry thrust the ladle into the cauldron, splashing some of the liquid over the sides, and onto his shirt. He swore. He dropped the ladle, which came to a rest against the lip of the pot. He closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath. He turned around, and opened his eyes.

She was exactly as she had been the last time he had seen her. Her hair was drawn back, tied into a messy bun. She had applied some makeup, but nothing so as to be overpowering. She wore a tight t-shirt, and jeans, as was the fashion at moment. She had a small smile on her face, and she was watching him closely. She seemed highly amused by the entire situation.

"Go away." Harry said, his eyes narrowing. He glared at her, willing her to leave. However, she continued to smile, and crossed the room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. She patted the bed beside her.

"Sit." She ordered, in a tone that brooked no argument. Harry stood his ground, and glared at her. He looked her up and down, and then crossed his arms across his chest.

"Get out!" He said his voice turning from a hard tone to harsh growl. He glared at her, and took a menacing step forward. She sat there, unmoving, but the smile disappeared from her face. Her eyes grew hard, and she stared up at him, utterly not intimidated. Harry had never before seen this side of her. It was like a iron curtain had surrounded her.

"**Sit down**, **Harry**" she shouted, and slammed her hand down on the bed next to her. Harry had started for the bed before he caught himself.

"No." he said. His voice was now completely free of any traces of anything approaching nice. It was solid anger, a harsh tone that seemed almost inhuman as it tore from his lips. Her face blanched, and she stood up, taking a step away from his approaching form. He stalked towards her, backing her into the corner.

"No. You will leave my house!" he yelled at her, leaning over her, and roaring in her face. She was cowering against the wall, all traces of her iron curtain gone. She looked back towards him, and Harry saw fear in her eyes. She turned so that her body was facing his. They were so close that she was pressed up against him as he leaned over even further. She could feel the heat of his breath on her face.

"No, Harry, I won't leave. Not unless you make me." She snapped back, defiant. Harry eyed her, and seized her by the arm. He started to drag her toward the door. However, he found himself stopped. He turned, and saw her standing, leaning back, heels dug into the floor, holding her ground. Her wand was in her hand.

"Oh, I never said I was going to go easily, Harry." She hissed, keeping her wand trained at his chest. Her eyes were narrow, and alight with an angry fire. Harry dropped her arm as if it was burning his hand.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He said, turning away from her. "I'll… I'll have Kreacher make you up a room." He muttered, defeated. He heard her began to protest from behind him. "And none of your _spew_ crap!" He shouted, his anger surfacing again.

"Fine." She muttered. She flounced past him, her frizzy brown hair bobbing up and down in its messy bun. Harry watched her go. He shook his head, and muttered grumpily.

"Damn you, Hermione."

The next few days passed awkwardly, with Harry stubbornly ignoring Hermione, not even acknowledging her existence. Hermione, on the other hand, spoke to him continuously, regardless of what he was doing. The only time she had been silent was when he had first entered the library. She gasped, and instantly darted off amongst the books, her hands tracing along the spines. She came to one of the books that Harry had marked with a tiny flaming red 'X'. She paused, and looked over to him. He was resolutely looking the other way, looking at book titles on the other wall. He pulled on down.

"You did this, didn't you, Harry?" she asked, sounding both impressed and cross at the same time. "It's an incredible casting, to get the marking so small. And how long has it been burning?" she asked. Harry still didn't look at her. Now her voice took on the lecturing tone he knew so well.

"You shouldn't be using magic outside of school, Harry. You'll be expelled. The Ministry will break your wand. How will you defeat Voldemort then?" She demanded. Harry turned to face her for the first time since their confrontation in his room five nights ago.

"I can't be expelled. I'm not returning to the school." He said. She grinned for the briefest of moments, and then the look was replaced with a frown. She shook her head, looking exasperated.

"They can still take and break your wand, Harry." She told him, her frown deepening. Harry shook his head.

"They can _try_ and take my wand Hermione. If they get it, I won't have much use for it anyways. The only way they will take it from me is if they pry it from my cold dead fingers." Harry told her. She smiled again. This time it stuck. Harry looked at her. Then he remembered something that Dumbledore had said.

"They don't know it's me casting magic." Harry said. Hermione looked at him, confused. Harry's mind was focused on the conversation that he had had with Dumbledore, in his office last year.

"When there is magic cast, they can't tell who cast it. So here, they don't know it's not one of the adult wizards in the house. So, at Ron's it only his parents' enforcement that stops him from using magic." He told her, his voice excited. "You can use magic too, if you want to."

Hermione looked unsure. She chewed on her lip, looking nervous and disconcerted. Harry rolled his eyes. He pulled his wand from his pocket. He leveled it, pointing it straight at Hermione's chest, upon which his eyes lingered for a moment. He turned his eyes back to Hermione's face, which had a look of shock upon it. She drew her own wand, and took a step back.

"What are you doing, Harry?" she asked, confused. Harry kept his wand fixed upon her. She sidestepped, but her followed.

"I'm going to make you use magic." He said, and waved his wand, concentrating hard on the spell. Her legs began to flail wildly. He had hit her with the _Tarantagela_ spell. She was dancing around, crying out in surprise.

"Harry, take this off of me!" She shouted, her voice shrill. Harry smiled, and shook his head.

"You're a witch. Take it off yourself." He told her. She shook her head, and mumbled a stream of protests. Harry caught the words 'illegal', 'irresponsible', and 'little bastard' several times. He smirked at her, and watched her continue her moral struggle. She had her wand poised several times, but then she dropped it back down to her side, wringing her other hand nervously.

Finally, she waved her wand, and soundlessly disabled Harry's spell. She stood, shocked. Silence filled the library. It was not awkward, just expectant. Harry sat, waiting for a response from Hermione. He was fully expecting an angry rant. However, she appeared to be much too stunned to make a verbal response to Harry's actions.

"Oh God!" She squealed. "I'm going to be expelled! The Ministry is going to take my wand. Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God!" she said, holding her head, and shaking it about. Harry sighed, tiring of her ravings.

"Good God, SHUT UP HERMIONE!" Harry roared. She stopped, and looked at him, surprised. Her mouth opened and closed, like a fish. However, she seemed to be unable to form a sentence.

"Better! Now, the Ministry is not going to take your wand. They don't know that you did magic. And, besides, it was self defense." Harry explained. By now, she seemed to have recomposed herself. She was glaring at Harry, and he thought that this rivaled Mrs. Weasley best Fred-and-George glare.

"Harry! I can't believe you just did that! You made me _break the law!_" She snapped shrilly. She was breathing hard. Harry merely laughed in the face of the accusation. This sound only seemed to enrage her more.

"You pigged-headed idiot!" She hissed. She spun on her heal, and stormed out of the library. Harry watched her go, before springing up, and following her, calling out her name. He burst out of the door, to see her standing in the hallway, grinning at him. He stopped short, confused. Her grin widened at his shocked expression.

"I thought you were ignoring me, Harry?" She queried. Harry stared at her face, realizing for the first time that he had broken his vow to not speak with her. His walls of solitude had been cracked, and Hermione had already wormed her way inside. He gritted his teeth, angry with his own lack of resolve.

"Just leave me alone, Hermione." He grumbled dejectedly. He turned from her, and began to walk up the stairs to his room. He felt her grab hold of his arm, and tried to shake her off, but he found that he couldn't. She spun him back around, and fixed him with a hard look.

"Why? So you can mope alone and fight this on your own? Well, this isn't just your battle, Harry. It's _everybody's_! Voldemort hasn't just affected you. Dumbledore meant a lot to me, too. I cared for Sirius too! And Ron? His brother got bitten by one of Voldemort's werewolves. We've fought his Death Eaters just as often as you have, Harry!" she said, poking him in the chest with her wand, which for some reason, she had not put away.

"Don't think for a minute that you are the only one who can fight this battle. You may be the only one who can win, who can kill Voldemort, but that doesn't mean you won't need help. While your dueling Voldemort, what do you think his Death Eaters are going to be doing? Watching while you throw down their Lord? They might hang back while he tells them to, but if the going gets rough? He'll order them to kill you. It doesn't matter how great a wizard you are Harry! A dozen killing curses will get you. It only took one to bring down the greatest wizard of our time.

"Whether or not you _want_ our help, you are going to have it. You can't think, even for a moment, that Ron and I would let you head into this alone would you? How about the Order? Forcing them away from you, not letting them help you just shows that you think that all they have done is for nothing! Think of the losses they have incurred! They want to see Voldemort fall as much as you do! Lupin has had three of his best friends slain by Voldemort! The Weasleys have nearly lost their father, and their son or brother!

"Goddamnit Harry! This is just your desire to be the hero. That is why you pushed Ginny away! To protect her? No, to protect yourself Harry! You can't stand the thought of losing someone else! She understands the risks of being with you. Ron and I have understood the risks of our friendship with you for years. But now it doesn't matter. Her family is deeply linked with the Order. She's a target, whether or not she's with you. So why the hell don't you just stop being such a baby, and think about someone else, Harry!" Before Harry could say anything, before he could even react to this sudden onslaught, she had spun on her heel, and stomped up the stairs ahead of him. He watched her back as she left, and, as such, was unable to see the immensely satisfied smirk on Hermione's face. He waited until he heard her door slam shut before heading up the stairs as well. He entered his room, and moved to the bed. He flopped himself down, stretching out on the bed.

The thing that annoyed him the most was that he knew she was right…

A/N: I enjoyed writing the last part of this chapter. I hope you all like reading it as much.

Please review, flame if necessary.

Finally, we got to see Hermione, and I think that I will bring Ron into the story next chapter, and maybe Ginny.

Dave


	6. Chapter Five: To the Burrow

Disclaimer: Nothing by Rowling belongs to me. 'Nuff said.

A/N:

**Chapter Five: To the Burrow**

Harry had had a difficult time getting to sleep after his hallway confrontation with Hermione last night. Her words had been completely correct, as they always were. They had cut straight through Harry's built up defenses. He felt a deep shame over at his own selfishness. When it came down to it, Harry had only been pushing others away to protect him.

It was true that the others were probably safer the less they had to do with him, but in this day, no witch, wizard or Muggle was ever going to be truly safe. Not until Lord Voldemort had been dealt with. Harry had long lain in bed, mulling over these thoughts, and other ones along the same lines of thinking.

When sleep had at last claimed him, it had been no more peaceful or restful then his troubled thoughts. He had been fighting. He remembered only snippets from his dream. There was fire, and screams, screams of his friends as they died, crying for him to help them. He had seen the Burrow burning, and Hogwarts, a shattered ruin. He had seen Death Eaters marching through the streets of London, slaying at random as people ran before them. Here and there, wizards had drawn their defensive lines, and had tried to repel them, but the Death Eaters had out numbered them, and overrun any resistance.

He had awoken before dawn, in a cold sweat. His heart had been racing, and his wand was clutched in his hand. Harry had half expected his room to be damaged. He knew he had been throwing magic around during his dream, and it had been among his most powerful spells he had been using. Had he actually cast them, he would have laid waste in the tight confines of the room.

Now, Harry was seated at the desk, skimming through his potions book, wondering what potion to create next. With Hermione here, he thought he might try to brew some more Felix Felicis. The luck potion had proved undeniably useful to the others during the Death Eaters attack on Hogwarts a few weeks back. The same attack that had claimed the life of the greatest wizard Harry had ever known.

He reread the instructions for a third time and decided that with Hermione's potions abilities, they would be able to create some of the potion. Considering how long it took to brew the potion, he knew that the sooner they started the better. He was about to fill the pot, when his stomach rumbled loudly. Rubbing his gut, he decided that breakfast wouldn't be such a bad idea. He stood, and noticed that the sun had broken the horizon, and was sending its first rays through his window.

He opened the door soundlessly, and headed for the stairs. For the second time, he noted how grimy the floor was beneath his bare feet. Quickly, he summoned the house elf, and ordered it to begin cleaning. As he did so, a thought occurred to him. If Kreacher was here, in Grimmauld Place, then he had been sent back from Hogwarts.

_This might mean that the school was indeed closing once and for all, _Harry thought. He watched the house elf for a moment, studying it, before turning back, and continuing on his way. He trotted down the stairs, and headed into the kitchen.

The room was dark, as it had no windows, and no one had entered it before him. He pulled his wand, and focusing on the words, waved it, sending half a dozen small balls of fire zipping throughout the room. All but one hit the lamps as he intended. The sixth splattered against the concrete walls. However, he was pleased that he had managed a relatively difficult task without having to vocalize his spell.

He waved his wand again, and the cooker flared to life. He was beginning to enjoy himself. He waved it a third time, and the refrigerator door flew open. Next, he bewitched a pair of eggs to fly out, landing on the counter top. He summoned a pan, and then flew it over to the cooker. He levitated the eggs again, and placed them over the pan. He paused, wondering how he would crack them with his magic. Unable to find a solution, he walked over, and plucked the eggs from mid-air. In one fluid movement, he cracked both, and pried the shell apart, depositing the golden insides into the heated pan. Years of preparing the Dursley's breakfasts had made him quite handy in the kitchen.

The kitchen was filled with sizzling sounds, and the wonderful smells of cooking. He used his wand every now and then, summoning something, or manipulating something else. Harry was having a ball. Despite the fact that he had been forced to cook for Dudley, he had always quite enjoyed the experience. Seeing that the food was nearly complete, Harry summoned a plate over to him, and prepared to serve up the food.

As Harry was sitting down at the table, the kitchen door burst open, and Lupin and Tonks stumbled through the door giggling. Tonks pulled him into a kiss. As she released him, Lupin looked over her shoulder, and saw Harry sitting at the table with a mock disgusted face. Lupin whispered something in Tonks' ear, and she spun around, falling and taking out Lupin as she did so. She sprang back upright with surprising alacrity. It was so quick that Harry couldn't help but harbor the theory that she had a lot of experience in falling. She was one of the clumsiest witches he had ever met.

"Wotcher, Harry!" she said brightly, "A spot of breakfast would be nice!" she announced, eyeing Harry's plate. She smiled, and headed for the stove. Lupin, who was in the process of dusting off his permanently shabby robes, rolled his eyes, and hastened to intercept her, catching Tonks by the shoulders before she could even turn on the cooker. He spun her around quickly, and sent her scooting for the table with a firm push. From the way she jumped, Harry had little difficulty in guessing where his former professor had placed his hand.

Tonks giggled, and Harry fixed her with a look. She was much too happy for so early in the morning. Harry glanced at the clock that hung on the grimy wall. In didn't even read eight o'clock yet.

"How are you so bloody happy this early in the morning?" Harry asked her, irritated. She smiled, and gave Harry a broad wink. Its effect was somewhat lessened by the yawn that erupted forth.

"I was up all night!" She announced, and gave another yawn. She giggled again. "I'm just exhausted. I usually get quite giddy when I'm this tired." Harry looked between her and Lupin.

"I think that I _really_ don't want to know!" Harry mumbled. Tonks eyes widened, and she punched Harry on the arm. She shook her head, which was sporting a long cascade of bubblegum pink curls.

"It was Order business!" She shot back at him. Harry snorted.

"So that's what they are calling it these days? He replied, grinning at her look of shock and horror. She punched him again.

"Good God, Harry! You need to dig your mind out of the gutter!" She laughed. Harry put on a look of mock horror. Lupin chose this moment to throw in his jibe.

"He's a teenage boy! Where else would his mind be?" He quipped. The three of them laugh together. Harry was shocked by how much fun he had with the two of them. When around Tonks, who had returned to her normal cheery self, Lupin seemed to be much more relaxed, and much younger. Harry was certain he was seeing a side of the marauder that he had been.

"Shut it!" Harry growled, with a tone that Moody would have been proud of. The conversation wound down, as Lupin had finished preparing his and Tonks' breakfast, and the three got down to the serious business of eating. Tonks shoveled down her first plate in mere minutes, and started stealing bites off of Lupin's and Harry's plates. Soon, the three of them had a small sword fight going over the table. Their forks flashed back and forth, stopping Tonks from getting their food. While he was distracted by Tonks, Harry shot his fork over, and stabbed a sausage on Lupin's plate.

"I saw that, you traitor!" He snapped. As he turned to Harry, Tonks darted in and grabbed the other sausage on the plate. Just then, their attention was drawn by the door banging open once again. They turned to look at the door. Hermione stood their, in a pair of loose flannel pants, and a short silken tank top. Harry stared at her for a moment, shocked by her appearance. His eyes roamed over her once, and then he finally found his tongue.

"Morning, Hermione." He managed at last. She crossed her arms over her chest. She had her lecturing face on.

"Do you have any idea how _early_ it is? She hissed angrily. Harry glanced at the clock, and nodded.

"Yeah." He said, shrugging. She glared at him, angered by his complete lack of caring. She took a step forward, and drew her self up, preparing for a yell. Harry waited until she had her mouth open, before sending a piece of toast whizzing across the room, straight into her open mouth. She coughed for a second, and then began to chew, as if deciding that eating was preferable to an argument.

She came and sat at the table next to Harry, and began to pick at the food on his plate with her fingers. Harry slapped her on the hand with his fork, still covered in the food that he had been eating. It left a large amount of dirty slop on her hand.

"Go and make your own bloody food." He told her, grinning. She looked shocked for a moment, and then she blushed. She muttered something that Harry couldn't understand.

"What?" he asked. She blushed even deeper, and kept her eyes downcast.

"I… I can't cook." She mumbled softly. She turned away from the others, blushing to a shade that would have made Ron's mightiest blush look like a pale pink. Harry looked to Lupin, unsure whether to laugh or not. Lupin looked equally as shocked. Neither of them had ever found something that Hermione was incapable of doing.

"That's… ok, Hermione." Harry said, keeping his voice soft, and speaking directly to her, "Not everyone can be good at everything." He told her, his voice containing an edge of laughter. She looked round at him, and he was grinning. She slapped him in the leg.

"Stuff it, you git" She whispered, smiling back at him. He pushed her his plate, and stood up.

"Eat that, and I'll make you some fresher stuff." Harry ordered. She nodded dully, and began to pick at the food on the plate. Harry quickly began to prepare her some food, flicking his wand left and right. Hermione watched this for a moment, before turning to Lupin and Tonks, as if expecting the former professor, and Ministry of Magic employee to do something about the underage wizard using magic. Seeing that neither of them cared, she decided to take matters into her own hands. She pulled her own wand from her waistband.

_"Expelliarmus!"_ She hissed, intentionally vocalizing her spell so that Harry would be fully aware of who was taking his wand. His wand flew through the air, coming to rest in Hermione's outstretched hand. She quickly shoved the wand though the waistband of her flannel pants. Harry, who had stopped what he was doing, turned to face her. Lupin and Tonks had both stopped talking, and were staring at Hermione, shocked.

"Give it back." Harry whispered, deadly serious. His eyes were narrowed, and his hand outstretched, reaching for the wand that she had taken.

"No." She replied simply, her voice completely unafraid. However, she rose from her chair, holding her wand, as if preparing herself for a fight. Harry took a step forward, anger dancing in his eyes, and his stance aggressive.

"Give it to me." He muttered again, his barely audible voice filled with deadly intent. His hands clenched into fists at his side. Hermione took a step back, but her eyes were as hard as flint, and she seemed ready to fight before she yielded his wand back unto him.

"I realized something last night, Harry. I _can_ use magic. I can't believe I was being so stupid. I don't understand how I could have made such a serious mistake! I'm _seventeen_ Harry! I'm free to do what I wish with my magic. So, no, you will not be getting your wand back. Not until you turn seventeen." She smiled smugly. Harry next actions shocked everyone in the room.

In a single step, Harry closed the gap between the two of them. He was right in her face, so close that she could feel his warm breath on her face, and feel him pushed up against her. She was shocked. She had only ever been this close to a guy when he had been about to kiss her. And judging by the murderous look in Harry's eyes, he did not have anything romantic on his mind. His hands closing around her wand wrist, and throat backed up her suspicions.

"Harry…" she managed to gasp through his iron tight fingers. Lupin and Tonks sat there for a moment, too shocked to react. Then they exploded into action. Lupin shot up from the table, grasping his wand in his hand, steadying the thin piece of wood on Harry.

"Let her go!" He ordered, his voice ringing. Harry shot him a look. Lupin's wand shot out of his hand. Tonks froze in place as his eyes turned upon her next. Her legs snapped together, and she tumbled over, and dropped her wand out of reach in her haste to throw her hands out to brace her fall. Harry's iron hard gaze turned to Hermione, who was going red as his hand continued to cut off her air flow.

"Never, ever take my wand from me!" He hissed, his face still less than an inch from hers. She felt him release her wand hand, and pull his from her waistband. He threw her backwards, away from him.

"Get the fuck out of my sight!" He swore violently. When she didn't move, he raised his wand, and with a wave, a small explosion hit the wall behind Hermione. She took the hint, scrambling out of the room without even bothering to retrieve her wand, which she had dropped while Harry had been holding her wrist. She moved for the stairs, wanting to put as much room between herself and Harry as possible.

She was terrified. What she had seen in his eyes had terrified her. It had been anger bordering on insanity. She knew that he had been on the verge of losing control of his anger, and of unleashing the full wrath of his power upon her. She scrambled up the stairs, and ran for her room. She threw that door shut, and reached for her wand to close it, before realizing that she no longer had it. Angry and upset, she threw herself onto her bed, and closed her eyes.

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, silence reigned. Lupin had retrieved his wand, and held it loosely at his side, as if unsure of what to do about what he had just witnessed. He raised his wand, not towards Harry, but towards Tonks, and he muttered the counter spell, causing her legs to snap apart. She immediately scrambled forward, and grabbed her wand, which she raised at Harry. She was even more in shock than Lupin was.

"Remus, how the hell did he do that!" She screeched, turning to look at Lupin, while still keeping her wand trained on Harry. Lupin merely shook his head, watching Harry through half scared and half awed eyes.

"I don't know, not really." He whispered, as though afraid to break the silence of the moment. "That was really, really advanced magic. The spells certainly weren't, but the fact that he could cast them wandless, without effort… It is something I have only seen the most powerful of wizards do. Most of us can use basic spells without a wand, but that was amazing!"

"So what?" Harry asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. He was staring at the ground. "Now I'm even more special?" He asked bitterly. He bent down, and grabbed Hermione's wand. Without even a glance at Tonks and Lupin, Harry swept out of the room, and the door banged shut in his wake. Lupin and Tonks exchanged quick glances, but stayed in the kitchen. Neither of them wanted anything to do with an angry Harry at precisely that moment in time.

Harry stalked down the hall, and stopped at the stairs. He was unsure of whether or not going to see Hermione yet would be such a good idea. Harry was, in reality, nearly killed her. He was positive that his rash actions had surprised him more then anyone else in the room. He had acted without thinking. His mind was racing, covering the details of what had just transpired. He sighed, and with a last look at the stairs, trudged off toward the library, determined to do some research.

As he reached the library door, he noticed just how tired he already was. The clock hadn't even struck eight thirty, but he had already worn himself out. Ignoring this, he shoved the door open, and the lamps inside flared to life as usual. Harry looked around the room, and was happy to see a multitude of little flaming brands staring back at him. He had been making quite good progress with his research, even if he had turned up little to do with the Horcruxes. He looked, and noticed that some of the flaming brands were beginning to dull. He spent a few minutes refreshing all of his marks. Then, he began selecting more books, and carrying them to his usually desk, where he had laid out parchment, a quill and an ink well for writing. However, he had found nothing of use, so they lay unused on the desk.

When _Dark Crafts: A Guide to Black Magic _and _Spellforging: How to create Magical Items_ both revealed nothing, Harry sighed and close the books, marking them with a quick flick of his wand. It had taken him forever to read _Spellforging_, as he couldn't concentrate upon his task. Thoughts of his fight with Hermione kept thrusting their way into his mind. He had threatened her twice since her arrival at Grimmauld Place, and both times, he had seen the complete and total fear in her eyes.

He rose from the desk, and moved to replace the books on the shelves. He slid them back into their place, and left the library. He squinted against the brightness of the hallway, as he did every time after he left the dark library. He looked at the stairs, and decided that he should really go and talk to her. He hesitated for a moment, and then placed his foot on the bottom step, and began to climb.

He reached the room that he had ordered the house elf to prepare for her a few days before. He pulled back his hand, but didn't knock. He wasn't even sure if she would want to talk to him. He let out an anxious sigh, and rapped hard on her door.

"Hermione?" He called. There was a shuffling within the room, but there was no answer. Harry knew that she had heard him, and decided that she was just being obstinate. He rapped again, harder.

"Hermione, I'm coming in." He told her, as he reached for the doorknob. He grabbed it, and tried to turn it, but it was locked. Harry respected her desire for privacy, but wasn't in the mood to allow her it right now.

"Alohamora!" He muttered, as he pointed his wand at the door handle. There was a quiet click, and Harry spun the door knob, and let himself into the room. He saw the Hermione was lying on the bed, face down. He did not appear to be crying, but Harry still approached slowly. He slipped his wand into his pocket, and drew out hers. He tossed it so that it landed by her side on the mattress. She felt it bounce against her side, and looked round at Harry. Her eyes were slightly puffy, and Harry guessed that she _had_ been crying.

His stomach tightened, and he felt terrible. He froze for a second watching, her before crossing the room, and taking a seat on the edge of her bed, by her feet. He was looking away from her, allowing her a chance to compose herself before speaking to him. He waited along moment. Suddenly, something connected with the back of his head, hard. Harry fell from the bed in shock. He looked to see Hermione kneeling on the bed, a pillow clenched tightly with both hands. She drew back her arms, and threw it at him. Luckily, his quidditch reflexes allowed him to snag the flying pillow a foot away from him.

"Don't you ever do _anything_ like that again!" she shrieked, jumping off the bed, and pummeling his with her fists, and even kicking him. He merely sat there, fending off her punches with the pillow. He merely accepted her kicks with a few grunts. Eventually, the hitting stopped, and Harry looked up at her. She was shaking. Harry stood up, and pulled her into a hug. It just seemed like the right thing to do. Still hugging her, he sat down on the bed.

"Hermione…" He began, his voice soft as a whisper. She looked round at him, her eyes once again red and slightly puffy. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." He said, his own voice holding a hint of sadness. He didn't really know what to say. He had beaten up his best friend, and worst of all, she was, well, a girl. Harry was disgusted with himself. He let her go, and stood up.

"I don't know what came over me." He explained. It was a weak story and he knew it, but it was the absolute truth. He didn't understand why he had reacted so violently.

"It's just… I can't stand the thought of being defenseless."

Harry's voice cracked then, and a small tear slid from his face. He was once again standing on top of the tower, pinned, helpless, watching Dumbledore go tumbling into open space. Harry was standing in a tiered room, like an ancient theatre, watching Sirius fall slowly through the veil. Another tear slid down his cheek. He could feel all of the emotions that he had bottles up over the past few years bubbling to the surface. Harry fought to restrain them, but failed. Another tear flowed forth, and it was like the bursting of a dam. His shoulders shook, and tears flowed down his face, but no sound escaped his lips.

"Harry!" Hermione whispered, rising from the bed, and wrapping him in a hug. Again, they came down onto the bed, this time, Hermione leading Harry. She remained silent as he wept into her shoulder. She stroked his hair, and just held him. She had never seen him react this way before about anything. She was quite shocked by his reaction.

Several minutes had passed before Harry had stopped shaking. Hermione's shoulder was very wet, however, she had made no actions to stop him, or move at all. Harry sniffed once, twice, and then raised his head form her shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He said, grinning weakly. She squeezed him tightly for a moment, and then released him.

"It's OK. It's better than you bottling up all of your emotions. It can't do anyone any good." She told him softly. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. She could feel the wetness of her shirt clinging to her shoulder, and she reached up and pulled on the shirt, freeing the fabric from the skin for a moment. Harry laughed as it sagged back down, and stuck on her arm again.

"Sorry about that." He said, with a smile. She fixed him with a look, but she wasn't really mad. She shooed him from the room, saying she had to change. Harry stood in the hallway, and leaned back against the door of her room. He was glad that she wasn't angry with him. He had been worried that his stupid actions would have lead to the end of their friendship.

Without warning, the door opened, and Harry fell back, landing hard. Hermione burst out in a fit of giggles. Harry rubbed the back of his head, and glared at her. She hadn't just changed her shirt, he noticed, by her pants and hair as well.

"You could have warned me1" He barked at her. She just laughed harder, and offered a hand to help him up. He grabbed it, and she pulled him upright. He dusted himself off, and then looked her up and down.

"I thought you were changing your shirt?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. He looked down at herself, and fixed Harry with a incredulous look.

"I had to match!" She stated simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She flounced past him, her hair, which was now in a ponytail, bounced side to side. Harry tolled his eyes, and followed her.

It turned out that Hermione had wanted to go to the library. She had been in there before, but as she had been on a mission to make Harry speak to her, she hadn't been helping him with the research. He now got the strong impression that being in a library and not reading had pained her greatly.

Now, she ran her hands excitedly over the spines of the books, and was grinning happily. Harry was strongly reminded of a kid, or Ron, in a candy store. She pouted a little when some of the more interesting titles where already marked with a brightly flaming brand. She stopped at one book, and read the title out loud.

"_Imbuement_ _of_ _Darke_ _Magick_? Sounds interesting, doesn't it?" She said, reaching for it. Harry, who was on the other side of the room, shouted out.

"Don't!" He cried. She stopped, her hand only a hair's width away from grabbing the spine of the book. She looked round at him, shocked.

"It burns if you touch it." He explained. "It was the first book I tried to grab." She sighed with frustration.

"You've gone through almost every book that looks to be useful." She said huffily. She was clearly frustrated that she wouldn't be getting to do much reading.

"Then just start grabbing any book off the shelf." He told her. This appeared to cheer her up, as she zipped around the library, pulling books off the shelf. When she had a piel that she could barely carry, she flopped down at one of the alcoves, and threw a book open, and began to read. Harry, who had selected only a couple of books this time, sat down, and began to skim through them, looking for keywords on each page, like he always did. When the first one yielded no results, he tossed it down, and picked up the second one. Almost an hour later, it hadn't revealed anything too him, so when he flipped the last page, he was getting grumpy. He just wanted to get out of the library. His growling stomach made up him mind.

"Hermione, let's go have lunch." He told her. She looked at him over the top of a massive tome. Her eyes were begging him to let her stay in the library.

"Can't we just eat in here?" she asked hopefully. Harry cast a glance around the room, before shaking his head.

"I'm not sure if that would be sanitary." He stated. To prove his point, he ran a finger along the wall next to his desk, and when he pulled it away, it was covered in a layer of black grime. Disgusted, he rubbed his finger clean.

"See what I mean?" he said. She nodded her head fervently. Marking her book, she stood up from the desk, and, with a last longing look at the weighty text, left the library, with Harry following her.

They entered the kitchen to find it utterly deserted. Hermione told Harry to have a seat while she made them lunch. Several minutes later, she deposited a tray full of sausages, and one of buns onto the table. Then, she dropped a packet of crisps beside the two platters. She watched Harry apprehensively. She had, after all, revealed earlier this morning that she couldn't cook. Harry put a sausage into a bun, and took a bite. He chewed reflectively for a few moments, and then looked at her and grinned. She smiled happily, and sat down at the table, helping herself to one of her own creations. Harry took another mouthful, and swallowed.

"I thought you said you can't cook?" He asked. She grinned at him. She too swallowed before replying.

"Well, to be truthful I can't. But, _this _can!" She said, brandishing her wand. She and Harry shared a laugh.

"I should have known. You can do anything with it." Harry told her. They passed the next little while talking about nothing in particular, reminiscing about Hogwarts, or talking about other things that had happened over the course of their friendship. Eventually the conversation came to something that Harry had completely forgotten about.

"Speaking of dress robes," Hermione said, after the pair of them had shared a laugh over Ron's frilly dress robes at the Yule Ball, "what are you wearing to Bill and Fleur's wedding?" Harry stared at her. He couldn't believe that he had forgotten his promise to Ron that he would attend the ceremony.

"Umm… what sort of dress robes do people normally where to a wizard's wedding?" Harry asked, completely ignorant of the customs for a wedding in the wizarding world, or the Muggle world for that matter. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had never let Harry accompany them to any weddings they attended. They had always shoved him out of the car in front of Mrs. Figgs' house, and drove off.

"Customarily, women wear a nice dress, exactly like a muggle wedding, and men wear dress robes with a vest of some form. The men's robes are usually black or white. Its kind of like a tuxedo robe." She explained. Harry nodded. This meant that he would have to go and buy himself a set of robes. He didn't really care, since this wouldn't make a dent in his greatly filled coffer.

"I guess its off to Diagon Alley for us this afternoon." Harry said, grinning. He had been looking for an opportunity to visit Fred and George's joke shop again. "How long until the wedding?"

"Well, the date is set for the twenty third of July, and today is the eleventh. So I figure that we should go to the Burrow around the seventeenth. It would give us a while to be there and just hang out before the wedding." She said. Harry agreed, and they both rose. They headed to the fire place, and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder. Harry threw his into the grate, and stepped inside.

"Diagon Alley!" He announced firmly. The room spun as he shot up through the chimney and moments later, came to rest in the grate of the Leaky Cauldron. He stepped out, and brushed himself off. He was joined moments later by Hermione, who did the exact same. Together, they headed out the back, and Hermione tapped the brick, forming the wide archway into the Alley.

The place looked very sad. There were barely any people on the street, and several of the stores were closed. They hustled down the street quickly, and darted straight into Madam Malkin's robe store.

She looked up, seemingly surprised to have customers. She hustled over to them, with her measuring tape and needles in hand..

"What can I do for you today, my dears?" She asked, he voice polite, yet urgent. Harry guessed that she hadn't done much business recently.

"We are shopping for wedding robes." He told her. She looked shocked, and her gaze flitted between them both.

"My, aren't you rather young to be getting married my dears? Have you even graduated Hogwarts?" she asked breathily. Harry and Hermione stared at her, and then glanced at each other. They both flushed with embarrassment. Hermione spoke first

"No. You misunderstand. _We _aren't getting married, we are going to a wedding." She explained, with the air of someone talking to toddler. Madam Malkin bobbed her head up and down, and began to mutter apologies.

Over an hour later, they emerged from the robe shop, both of them carrying a bag in their hands. Harry had, in the end, selected a set of black dress robes with a silvery grey vest that had black buttons down the front. Hermione had selected a light green dress that seemed to float around her, yet still cling to her curves. It was a very odd material. It seemed to cling to her all the way down the thigh, but lift away at the same time. The back was low cut, ending around the small of her back. The front was a little low cut as well. Harry had been shocked at the amount of cleavage that the dress had shown. He had been shock as well by how amazing Hermione looked in it.

Harry was surprised by how attractive he was noticing Hermione to be. Without his noticing, she had grown from a girl to woman. When he had watched her trying on the dress in front to the mirror, he couldn't help but noticing her curves, or her breasts. They were large, and well shaped. He felt wrong noticing these things about his best friend, especially so soon after he had broken up with Ginny. They decided against visiting the joke shop, but stopped to pick up some things for Bill and Fleur, as wedding gifts. By the time they had returned to the House, the sun was very low in the sky.

As they were eating their dinner, Harry remembered just what he had been intending to do that morning. He brought the subject up with Hermione.

"Of course! Making some more Felix would be a great idea. But…" She paused, and gnawed on her lip.

"What is it?" he asked. He could tell that she was having some serious doubts about the potion.

"How will we move it back to the school?" She asked timidly. Harry gave her a hard glare.

"You know that I am not going back to the school." With that, he put down his knife and fork and left the kitchen.

Over the next few days, neither Harry nor Hermione mentioned what they had discussed about moving the potion back to the school. However, they did begin the brewing process. Hermione had fretted for a good hour before she had been ready to start.

"It's a very difficult potion Harry. I've never even heard of half the ingredients, let along know where to find them." Harry grinned at her, and opened up the drawer where he had placed all of the ingredients that he and Lupin had purchased in Hogsmeade. Hermione gasped excitedly, and set to rummaging out everything that they would need for the potion.

And so the pair of them passed their days coming up the wedding brew the potion, researching Horcruxes and reading up on spells. Harry had made a habit of launching random minor curses, hexes and jinxes at Hermione at all times. It came to the point where they continually walked around with their wands in their hands, watching each other like hawks.

Finally the day that they had decided they would go to Ron's, the s seventeenth, arrived. They each packed a pair of bags, and Hermione sent them to the Burrow with a wave of her wand. Then, she stuck out her arm.

"I'll apparate us there, Harry." She told him with a bright smile. He grabbed hold, and with a crack, and the familiar squeezing feeling, Harry and Hermione were standing on the front lawn of the Weasley's ramshackle house, the Burrow.

"Harry, Hermione!" Ron called from the upper story window. He was waving. They both waved back, and headed for the house.

A/N: OK, another chapter done. I would like to greatly apologize for the length of time it took, but my computer was struck down with a virus.

Anyways, I would like to respond to a reviewer's question.

This is NOT a HG fic, it IS an HHr fic. However, The issues between HG and RHr have to be dealt with before any HHR ca take place.

Please review!

Dave


	7. Chapter Six: The Wedding

Disclaimer: Nothing by Rowling belongs to me. 'Nuff said.

A/N: Thanks to the reviewers for the last chapter. Please Read, enjoy, and Review!

Now, on with the show!

**Chapter Six: The Wedding**

Harry and Hermione covered the ground between where they had appeared and the Burrow in a few seconds. However, before they opened to door, Ron threw it open, and pulled them inside. Neither of them really understood how he had beaten them down here, but they shrugged and greeted each other. Ron gave Harry a hard punch on the arm, while Hermione got a very tight hug. She looked a little embarrassed as he released her.

"Hey!" He exclaimed. Harry grinned at him, and punched him back.

"Hey to you too! That hurt." Harry told him, rubbing his arm. It was true; Ron had hit him harder than was warranted. Ron gave Harry a cold look that disappeared so fast that Harry was sure he had imagined it. He ushered the two of them inside, and they all moved upstairs to Ron's room. As they were climbing the stairs, Ron froze and looked at them.

"I'm supposed to ask you questions, you know, to make sure you aren't Death Eaters." He told them. "Mum and Dad'll have a fit if I don't." His ears reddened slightly. Harry got the distinct impression that verifying the identity of friends and family was something that Ron forgot on a routine basis. They nodded, and he asked them the questions. He asked Harry what Dumbledore had written on the note attached to the invisibility cloak in their first year. He quickly asked Hermione what he had left behind during his Apparation test the previous year. She responded that he had left behind his eyebrow, and he nodded.

Hermione verified that Ron was indeed Ron, and they continued up the stairs. It wasn't until they had entered the safety of Ron's room that they spoke again. He slammed the door shut, and performed a silencing charm with a flick of his wand. Harry was envious of the fact that he was not yet seventeen, but he wasn't really overly concerned with performing magic. He figured that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wouldn't mind either. And if they did, then he just wouldn't let them see him.

Ron left out a long sigh, and flopped onto his bed, eyes closed, and hands behind his head.

"Honestly, that woman is mental!" he expounded. Harry and Hermione exchanged a brief glance. Harry had one eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Which one?" Harry asked, not knowing if his red headed best friend meant his mother or Fleur. Ron opened one eye and regarded him for a second.

"All of them! Every single woman in the world is completely fucking nuts!" He swore, jumping up from the bed, and throwing his arms up into the air. He spun around, and he stopped when he saw Hermione giving him an extremely dirty look. He dropped his arms hastily to his sides, and looked around desperately, as if trying to see a way out.

"Well, not you of course!" He corrected, his voice high and panicked. He was clearly afraid of the ramifications of his statement. After all, when Hermione was mad at you, you were really in for it. Ron had been on the receiving side of her temper far too many times. He knew to try and stay on her good side, whatever the cost.

"Quite." She said dryly. She didn't look angry, merely irritated by the fact that on was once again displaying all the thinking capacity of a turnip before speaking. She stood impassively, as if waiting for something more to happen. When Ron turned and looked at Harry for support, she rolled her eyes, and left the room, closing the door behind her.

"Mental." Ron said after a long moment, when he was sure that she wasn't coming back into the room. He looked at Harry, and let out an uneasy laugh. Harry smiled. They had been at the Burrow for all of five minutes, and Ron had already put his foot in his mouth.

"I don't think so." Harry replied quietly. "Why are they driving you nuts anyways?" Harry had a guess, and he was pretty sure that it was right, but he knew that Ron would like to vent.

"It's the wedding. Mum is dashing around, and Fleur is no better! Honestly, we would have been better off if they still hated each other. They are always in corners looking at books, and rushing out to but new things. Mum is making me weed and degnome the garden daily! Without Fred and George, Percy, Charlie, or Bill, I have to do it all on my own." He whined. Harry had thought that Bill and Ginny were at the house.

"Aren't Bill and Ginny here to help you though?" Harry asked him, confused. Ron rolled his eyes, and nodded.

"They're here but," Here Ron's voice became a surprising accurate mimic of his mother's, "Ron! Bill is having his wedding! He doesn't need to be grubbing around in the garden. And Ginny is having a rough time, leave her alone!" Ron rolled his eyes again, and flopped onto the bed. Harry leaned back against the wall thinking. Ginny was having a rough time. It was most certainly because of them breaking up, unless something else major had happened in her life since then. Harry felt worry gnawing at his insides.

As he refocused on the room around him, he noticed that Ron was staring at him hard. Harry raised his eyebrow slightly. Ron shook his head.

"Oh no. If you wanna find out anything about Ginny, you go talk to Ginny." Harry started to open his mouth to protest, but Ron cut him off. "And I don't care if you broke up. She's my sister and you're my best friend. Work this out." He ordered, and then he got up, and left the room.

Harry, now alone, crossed to the extra bed that was kept in Ron's room for when Harry came to visit. He sat down on the end of it, and dropped his head into his hands, shaking it back and forth. He knew that breaking up with Ginny had been the right thing to do, but no he was having doubts. He missed her, that was true, and she clearly missed him. Harry, however, couldn't deny that he hadn't thought that much about her while he had been at Grimmauld place.

So, would he be doing the right thing if he got back together with her? He couldn't help but wonder. The things that Hermione said about their relationship had made a lot of sense. Still, Harry knew that he had made his decision with Ginny for better or for worse, and he was going to stick to it. He knew as well that he couldn't avoid her forever.

With a sigh, he stood up from the bed, and left the room. He stood at the top of the stairs, and breathed deep, bracing himself for what he had to do. He walked down a flight, and found himself on another landing. There were two doors. The one to his left, Harry knew to be Percy's and the other, he knew, was Ginny's. He took another deep breath, and stepped towards it. Before he could change his mind, he raised his right hand, and rapped twice on the door. He waited, and then he heard a shuffling behind the door. There was the sound of a bolt being drawn back, and then the door swung open.

There was Ginny, were eyes red and slightly puffy. It looked as though she had been crying. She was wearing a short tank-top, revealing the smooth, pale skin of her stomach. She was also wearing short shorts that were so short that her bottom was showing out. Harry could not help but notice how attractive she looked. However, Harry did not find himself longing to take her in his arms as he would have only a few weeks ago.

As soon as she realized who had knocked on her door, she moved to shove it closed, but Harry, with his quidditch reflexes, shot his hand forth, and grabbed onto the door. She pushed as hard as she could, trying to force it closed, but Harry's quidditch training had left his muscles finely toned, and he was easily capable of defeating her efforts. She struggled for another few moments, and then released the door, and motioned with her hand for him to enter. Her eyes were downcast, and the motion was pitiful and sad.

Harry pushed the door open further, and entered her room. He had never been in here before, as Hermione, who always slept in Ginny's room was always awake before Harry and Ron, came and woke them up. Besides that, whenever they were at the Burrow, the usually met in Ron's room and talked things over or just hung out. He looked around interestingly.

The room was slightly bigger than Ron's and it also contained two beds, one of which was for Hermione when she came to visit. The floor was covered in clothes, including, Harry was embarrassed to notice, Ginny's bras and panties. Harry stepped carefully, trying as hard as he could to avoid stepping onto any of Ginny's things. Harry sat down lightly on the edge of the bed he assumed was Hermione's, owing to its plain blue covers and pillows. The other bed, that Harry assumed was Ginny's, was covered with a bright blanket of numerous colours, ranging from baby blue to hot pink. Currently, the covers were crumpled at the end of the bed.

"Hey" Harry said lamely, as Ginny settled down on the bright bedspread. She fixed him with a long stare, and then she looked away from him, clearly not wanting to discuss anything with him. As she sat there, Harry noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra. He couldn't help it, she was a very attractive young woman. He felt himself being attracted to her all over again. He still had feelings for her, but he wasn't sure if those feelings could justify putting her in so much danger by restarting his relationship with her.

"Look, I…It's just…" He sighed, and started over. "Look, Ginny, I know that you are sad, and that breaking up is difficult for you. It's been hard on me too." He lied. In fact he hadn't really thought about her after their break up at the funeral. It seemed as if everything that had been linked to him before Dumbledore's death was part of another life. Only a few things had followed him through the fall of his mentor; Hermione and Ron, and the quest for the Horcruxes. Harry figured that the Order would remain an important part of his life, as it had resources that he would have to draw upon during his quest.

"I'm _sad_!" She shrieked. "Good God, Harry do you have any idea what you are putting me through? I liked you for _years_ before we finally got together. And now, we are being torn apart because of what You-Know-Who could possibly do to me. I still love you, and I know you still love me, Harry!" Harry shook his head.

"No, I don't _love_ you Ginny, but I have do still have feelings for you. I…" he trailed off, as her eyes started to tear. Harry fought the urge to reach out and comfort her. If he was going to separate himself from her, he would have to avoid doing any boyfriend-like things.

"Prove it!" She said, and she launched herself across the gap between the bed, and tackled Harry, straddling him, and bringing her face down so that their lips touched. She gave him a deep kiss, and then she lowered her self, pressing against him as she tried to deepen the kiss. Harry, who started to pull her into the kiss as well, realized what he was doing moments later. Instead of pulling her in, Harry pushed her away.

"No, Ginny!" He said once he separated their lips. Ginny, though she had been rebuffed, looked triumphant as she was forced away.

"You can't tell me you didn't fell anything in that kiss. You can't tell me you don't feel anything while you look at me now." She said, fluffing her hair with one had, and the other traced its way down her chest towards her revealed cleavage. She bit her lip, and shifted into an alluring pose, grinning wickedly. Harry felt himself stir, aroused, and he reached out for her, and pulled her down onto his lap. She grinned triumphantly, and tried to kiss him once again. However, Harry placed his hands on her shoulders, and looked her square in the eyes.

"Ginny, I did feel something, and I do find you _extremely_ attractive. But I made my choice. Besides, I have obligations… things I need to do… I won't be a good boyfriend. I won't be able to give you what you need. Find someone who can." With that, he lifted her off him, and stood. Without looking at her, he left the room.

"But I want you.' She whispered as the door shut behind him.

Harry felt drained after his conversation with Ginny. He felt better though, as he had finalized his thoughts. He knew that being apart was the best thing for the both of them. Maybe later, after everything was done, they would have another chance. Deep down, Harry doubted very strongly if those feelings for Ginny would ever truly reinstate themselves.

Harry figured that it was only about lunch time, and he already felt exhausted. He thought that he would be refreshed by a bit of food. He descended the stairs quickly, and as he did so, he heard raised voices coming from the kitchen.

"…weren't such an insensitive git." Said Hermione, her voice filled with anger. He figured that Ron had said something, well, insensitive, again. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard Ron's voice retaliate.

"Well, she is being a baby about it! It's not my fault that they broke up! She shouldn't just sit around moping, and biting off the head of anybody who says anything to her." Harry groaned. He knew they were talking about Ginny. He entered the kitchen right as Hermione was starting to form a comeback. They were standing at opposite ends of the kitchen, shouting at each other

"SHUT UP!" Harry roared. Both of them jumped, not having taken any notice of him entering, so heated was their argument. Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Harry fixed him with a glare that would have made Mad-Eye Moody proud. Ron instantly shut his mouth, and shrank against the wall. While he was bigger than Harry, it was undeniable that Harry was the more powerful of the two when it came to magic. Also, Harry's years of quidditch had left him strong and flexible. Although he had never tried the theory out, Harry was of the opinion that he would acquit himself well in a fist fight.

"If you two want to stay with me you had better learn to deal with your differences in another way then constant bickering, or I _will_ leave the pair of you behind." He snapped. They both looked contrite, and Ron shuffled his feet, embarrassed.

"Now, are you through with all this bickering?" He demanded. Hermione nodded, and Ron looked away. "Ron!" Harry barked. The gangly red head nodded quickly, without turning to look at him. Harry, satisfied, took a seat at the table.

"I'm starving!" Harry proclaimed. The other two held their ground, watching him. Once they were sure that his anger had subsided, they too sat down at the table. Ron nodded fervently.

"Me too, mate!" He cast a look at Hermione, as if expecting her to cook for them. She shook her head, and raised her hands in a defensive manner.

"You're the host, you cook!" she snapped at him, obviously still angry with him. Harry sighed, as Ron, opened his mouth to retaliate.

"Why should I cook? You're the woman!" Ron retaliated. Harry groaned, and patted Ron on the shoulder.

"Wrong thing to say, mate." He whispered, as Hermione inflated, standing from her chair so fast that it clattered to the floor behind her. She was clearly preparing to scream at Ron.

"Hermione!" Harry said in warning. She looked at him, and at his pained expression. She immediately picked her chair back up, and sat back down, shooting Ron a disgusted look. If looks could kill, Ron would be dead as surely as if he had been hit by the Killing Curse.

"I'll cook!" Harry said, endeavoring to cut off any further arguments. He rose from the table, and headed over to the Weasley's stove. He lit it with a jab of his wand, and heard Hermione make an irritated snort. Harry pointedly ignored her, and waved his wand again, setting the table top on fire.

With a screech and yelp, both Ron and Hermione leapt away from the table, while Harry laughed. They both shot him angry looks. He shrugged innocently, and ignored the fact that a magical fire was raging behind him.

"What the fuck, Harry! We could have been hurt!" Ron yelled. Causing Harry to laugh all the harder. Hermione whipped out her wand, and sent a flood of water over the table, in an attempt to extinguish the fire that Harry had set. Unfortunately, the water did nothing to deter the blueish flames, and the water merely cascaded over the table, and covered the floor. Harry laughed even harder.

Hermione, incensed now, whirled on him, and let out an angry scream. She stomped over to him, and he turned to look at her. As he did, he received a stinging slap to his left cheek. Even as he was recovering from the first blow, she hit him again, his time on the right hand side of his face. Harry was in shock, and didn't react at all when she yelled at him.

"Put that fire out right now, Harry Potter!" she shrieked in his ear. He nodded, and jabbed with his wand. The flames vanished from the wooden table's surface, leaving it completely unharmed. She looked at it, and realizing that there was no damage, immediately put her hands to her mouth, and squealed.

"Oh Harry, it was just fairy fire! It couldn't have hurt us." Harry nodded glumly, and turned back to his cooking. He had just been trying to have a little bit of fun with his friends. He had been certain that Hermione would have noticed that the blueish flame was fairy fire, as its conjuration was one of her specialties.

The next few minutes in the kitchen passed in silence, except for the occasional spitting of the frying pan. In moody silence, Harry deposited three plates onto the table, and flopped down in silence. Ron was already shoveling the food in at a rate of knots. Hermione rolled her eyes, made a disgusted face at Harry, who cracked a smile. Ron looked at him strangely for a moment, then shrugged, and buried his face in the plate again. Within moments, it was clear, and he looked longingly at Harry and Hermione's plates, which were still full.

"That's the great thing about Hogwarts, you know. Unlimited food!" He said dreamily. Harry and Hermione both laughed at this, and Ron took the opportunity to pinch a piece of Hermione's bacon. She didn't seem to notice, and Harry laughed again.

"Mmm… Unfortunately, it's all made by house-elves." She said with a frown. This time it was Ron's turn to roll his eyes.

"None of that _spew_ crap." Ron muttered, very quietly, so that only Harry could hear him.

The days leading up to the wedding flew past in a blur of activity. Mrs. Weasley seemed to think that Harry and Hermione were two new house-elves that she had acquired. Harry had spent the days trimming and preparing the garden for the wedding. He had been asked to cut the grass every day, and Mrs. Weasley refused to let him use magic. She watched him suspiciously during the free moments that we got in between her own tasks.

Hermione, however, had been stuck in the kitchen with Mrs. Weasley and Ginny. She had been given a very quick but informative crash course on cooking by Mrs. Weasley when she had revealed that she was of less help than Ron in the kitchen. Harry had laughed, and said that the two of them would have been better to switch places, as Hermione was seventeen, and Harry could indeed cook, thanks to his own house-elfish life under the Dursley's rule.

"You should be more sympathetic to them, then! You should help out more with S.P.E.W.!" She told him after he made this analogy. Harry just rolled her eyes, and reminded her that _most_ house-elves enjoyed their lot in life. She gave him a hard look, and wandered off, muttering things about Harry being an 'ignorant fool', and the house-elves being 'uneducated, and unaware'. Harry laughed, and returned to his chores around the outside of the Weasley's house.

Once Harry was outside, he was greeted by a wave from Ron. Harry crossed over to him.

"Degnoming time" He told Harry, sounding exasperated. Harry nodded and the two of them got to work. Harry, who had long ago lost any pity for the rough treatment of the small magical men, was hurling them well over thirty feet with each throw. He and Ron shared a laugh when they each threw one, and they collided in mid-air.

It was well after noon by the time they had finished degnoming the garden. They had taken so long that some of the first gnomes had returned by the time that they had finished. Gathering them up, they hurled them far out of the garden, and retreated to the comfort of the house. They peered in secretively, and seeing that Mrs. Weasley wasn't around, they darted up the stairs and quickly and quietly as possible.

They closed the door to Ron's room, and Harry let out a laugh.

"Thank god! I thought we would never get a break form the wedding preparations!" Harry said, and Ron nodded fervently in agreement.

"Yeah, this wedding is going to kill us both." He said. He looked around nervously, as if searching for prying ears.

"You know, Harry, Fred and George were over the other day, before you and Hermione came round. And they were talking about having to find dates for the wedding." He said quickly, nervously. Harry looked at him with mild surprise. He hadn't thought about that. He knew it was customary for Muggles to bring dates to their weddings, but once again, his ignorance of wizarding culture had tripped him up.

"Oh?" Harry said, as he could think of nothing more to say. He had a good idea of who Ron was going to ask, but he wasn't entirely sure if he would be comfortable with would come out of it.

"Do you think Hermione would go with me if I asked her?" Ron asked, looking hopeful, but apprehensive at the same time. Harry honestly thought that she would say yes to him. He couldn't believe that Ron didn't know that. She had made it obvious enough that she liked him last year. Still, Harry thought that it would be better for Ron to figure this challenge out on his own.

"I don't know, mate. You'll just have to go for it" Harry told him, nodding. Ron grinned and nodded back. Then he fixed Harry with a look.

"Who are you going to ask?" He questioned, trying to keep a neutral face, although he was failing spectacularly. Harry suspected that Ron was wondering if Harry had any intentions towards his baby sister. Harry shrugged in a non-committal manner. Ron eyed him, but didn't pursue the subject any further.

Harry knew for a fact that he had no interest in Ginny anymore. She would remain as his first true girlfriend, and as someone that he had cared for. However, now, their relationship was as much a memory as Tom Riddle's diary self. He had confirmed that when he had spoken with Ginny several days ago. Harry didn't have any specific interest with any specific girl at the moment. School, quidditch, girls; they all seemed incredibly _unimportant_ compared to the monumental task that had been set before him.

He simply didn't have _time_ for such extravagance, and luxuries as a love life. He was preparing to face down the most powerful dark wizard for generations. Harry knew that prophecy. If he failed, there would be none who could stand in the way of the Dark Lord. Harry was not going to let that happen.

Voldemort was already tightening his grip on the wizarding world. He had the werewolf community under his control, the Dementors had abandoned Azkaban in favor of the Dark Lord's offerings, the giants were apparently on a dark path, ready to follow Voldemort. Harry also knew that Voldemort probably already set up a vast network of spies and infiltrators. Undoubtedly, there would be dozens of power hungry wizards and witches flocking to the banner of evil.

_And with Dumbledore gone, Voldemort will fear no one. _Harry thought. He looked back up, and saw Ron looking at him. Harry realized that he had been lost in his own thoughts, and must have been ignoring Ron.

"Sorry. Got lost." Harry explained. Ron merely nodded and winked at Harry. A sly smile spread across his face.

"Thinking about all the girls you could ask to Bill's wedding, eh?" He jested, punching Harry in the arm, a lot softer then the last time Ron had hit him with a 'friendly' punch. Harry gave him a weak smile, and an unconvincing nod. Ron, however, seemed to notice.

"RONALD WEASLEY! HARRY POTTER! GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!" Mrs.Weasley's magically magnified voice rung throughout the hose, causing Pig to jump excitedly off his perch, and zoom around, hooting madly. Ron shot out his hand, and missed him, but Harry's Seeker reflexes did not fail him. His hand flashed out, and came back, holding a small gray ball of fluff.

"Guess she found out we snuck off." Ron groaned. Harry nodded, and they descended the stairs at a laggardly place, ready to face Ron's mum's wrath for shirking their preparation duties.

Two days before the wedding, the wedding rehearsal was to take place. Harry and Hermione hung back, unsure of what to do while the Weasley's and Delacour's practiced for the wedding. However, they were both pleasantly surprised when Bill and Fleur came over and asked them to be a part of their wedding parties. They both agreed instantly.

During the practice, Harry was lined up beside Ginny, and Ron beside Hermione. However, Mrs. Weasley noticed Harry's uncomfortable glances at Ginny, who was resolutely not looking at him. She hustled over, and quickly switched Harry and Ron, who looked distinctly unhappy with that fact that he was being separated from Hermione.

"Much better!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley before she moved back to the sidelines to watch. Harry felt much more comfortable, but he was disturbed by the odd feeling he got in his gut when Hermione laid her hand gently on his arm, and they walked, side by side, up the 'aisle' toward the 'altar'

The morning of the wedding dawned with cloudy grey skies, which looked as thought they might rain. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had all been dragged out of bed at the crack of the very grey dawn. Harry had to continuously shake Ron awake, as he kept crawling back into bed. Finally, extremely frustrated, Harry doused a torrent of ice cold water splash over his friends face and then his entire body. Ron sat up amidst a lot of spluttering and choking.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron howled, as he leapt out of bed, casting a bale eye on Harry. He was completely soaked, and he was shivering, thanks to the fact that Harry's magical attack had been icy cold. He pulled out his own wand, and quickly performed a drying charm, and then shot a deadly glare in the direction of his laughing best friend.

"It's not funny, you git!" he growled, causing Harry to laugh harder. His laughter died in his throat, however, when Ron hit him with a silencing charm. Harry looked at him, and mouthed: "Funny!" He waved his wand, and activated the relatively simple counter-curse, freeing his vocal cords from their magical incapacitation.

"Very witty." Harry commented dryly. "There's only six hours until your brother is getting married, and you're content to just lie in bed, and not help, right?"

"Sounds good!" Ron said happily, turning and heading for the warmth of his covers. He performed the drying spell again, and threw them back. Harry rolled his eyes, and raised his wand again.

"Don't make me hex you, you lazy sod." He hissed. Ron turned, and grinned. He winked at Harry, and threw the covers back over the bed.

"Wouldn't dream of it, mate." He responded, and he bounded away from the orange and black Cannons bed. He slipped on a pair of jeans and a jumper while Harry waited impatiently by the door.

"What's your hurry anyways?" Ron demanded as they descended the staircase. Clearly, he did not possess any of the excitement or interest that Harry did in the day. Harry had never witnessed a wizards wedding, and he was very curious about what was going on today. Ron rolled his eyes when he heard this.

"It's nothing special, I'm telling you. They are long and boring, and usually quite sappy. Lots of exchanging of bonds and vows. They are all small enchantments that are placed to help the married couple in their lives together." When Harry asked what sort of enchantments they were, Ron merely shrugged.

"No idea" he replied. They reached the bottom of the stairs where they were set upon by a very flustered looking Mrs. Weasley. Her hair was askew and her face slightly red, as if she had been running.

"Loads of work to do! Outside! Help your father!" She snapped, pointing out the back door. She disappeared then, and the boys had a quick laugh at her extremely agitated state. However, hey did not remain for too long, fearing that she would come back and find them still standing there. Harry may have faced the most powerful Dark Wizard in the world on several occasions, but he was still afraid of Ron's mother when she was on form.

As they emerged into the backyard, the sky was still overcast, and a light rain had begun to fall. Harry and Ron moved over to wear Mr. Weasley was supervising the erection of a large canopy to cover the wedding from the rain. The cloth was so vast that I wouldn't have fitted into the Great Hall without some folding. Mr. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Fred and George were all already gathered around it.

"Give us a hand, boys!" Mr. Weasley cried when he saw them, gesturing to the numerous support posts that were lying on the grass. . Ron pulled out his wand, but Harry went and grabbed a post by hand, figuring that Mr. Weasley wouldn't let him use magic, being a ministry employee and all. However he was pleasantly surprised.

"Never mind that, use you wand Harry!" He said. Harry nodded happily, and whipped out his wand, enchanting the nearest post to float into place. Next, he pulled the canopy over it, settling the hole in the cloth around the point sticking up from the pole.

In about twenty minutes, they had erected the mammoth canopy. They all stood underneath it, sheltered from the increasingly strong rain. Bill sighed sadly.

"I had been hoping for a nice summer wedding." He said. Mr. Weasley patted his son on the arm.

"Well, your getting a nice British wedding. Wet!" They all shared a laugh at this, and then Mrs. Weasley's head shot out of the back door, glaring at them all as if they were committing a scandalous act.

"There's no time for you to be having fun. This is a wedding, not a party! Get to work!" She barked. They all nodded, and she disappeared back inside.

"I do think she has missed the point a bit, boys." Mr. Weasley said somberly. They all nodded again, but immediately set back to work. Harry was working with Fred and George to trim the bushes. Fred and George were making the bushes grow into different shapes. They grew one into a Hogwarts crest, and were now transfiguring the leaves so that they were the correct colours. After they were done, they held a quick discussion on what the Beauxbatons symbol looked like. They had a few goes at transfiguring a bush before they got it right. Next they threw a rock to the ground between the two bushes, and, with Harry's help, transfigured it into an arch. It was wrapped with flowers of all sorts, and was made of white washed wood. After several small alterations, they considered the 'altar' completed. They summoned a couple of stacks of chairs that were up against the side of the house, and began to set them up.

By the time the men had finished all the preparations that were required, there were only a couple hours left until the wedding was due to begin. They returned inside, all of them a little weary after having done so much work. Harry was surprised at how tired he was, as he had been using only his wand. The ground floor of the house was filled with a group of men, who Harry guessed were Fleur's family.

"I guess that all the women have gone to get changed. It usually takes them a few hours to get ready for anything." Said Mr. Weasley, causing all the men in the room to laugh and nod knowingly.

"I guess this means we have a bit of time to lounge around then, Dad?" Ron asked hopefully. Mr. Weasley shook his head regretfully. Ron slumped his shoulders and sighed. Mr. Weasley watched his youngest son.

"You should go to your room and get ready, boys, if you want to be ready for the start of the wedding." Mr. Weasley said, throwing a small smile Ron, who shot up immediately, and bolted for the stairs. Harry rolled his eyes to the twins, and then followed Ron up.

The two of them spent the bulk of the next hour and a half playing wizard's chess. Harry had come within moves of beating Ron. However, the master strategist moved quickly with his one remaining knight, and stuck down Harry's bishop, rook, and then took his king. Harry watched horrorstruck as his carefully constructed strategy was smashed and his king threw his small crown at the feet of Ron's triumphant jeering knight!

"Coward!" the little statue roared, as its horse reared up, and pumped its forward legs. Harry hastily gathered up his dispirited chess pieces, and returned them to the case, ignoring their mutinous mutterings.

"How the bloody hell did you get out of that one?" Harry asked, his voice laced with frustration and anger. Ron merely shrugged, and laughed.

"When you're good, you're good!" He taunted. Harry grumbled something rude, and checked the clock on the bedside table.

"Christ only forty five minutes till the wedding! We'd best get into our robes." Harry said, and he began to pull of his clothing.

Twenty minutes later, both of the boys were downstairs in their new dress robes. It appeared that Fred and George had purchased him new robes for the wedding as well. They were plain, black robes, with a black vest with grey buttons, a white shirt underneath, and a black tie.

Harry, on the other hand, had quite ornate robes. He had spent a good deal of money on his robes for the wedding. They were also black; however, the vest was a silvery grey material. The buttons on the vest were black and shiny; they were made of obsidian, and were chiseled and polished into nice dome shaped. His under shirt was a darker grey, and his tie was the same light silvery grey colour as the shirt. He had gold cufflinks on the arms of his suit.

Harry was now running a hand over his hair, in a completely vain attempt to control his unruly raven hair. However, he was once again failing spectacularly. With a sigh, he dropped his hand, and looked around the Weasley's living room. It was filled with many people, some that Harry recognized, and some that he didn't. He saw Lupin, McGonagall, and Perkins from Mr. Weasley's work, a few of the goblins from Gringotts, and many other order members and Hogwarts staff members. H could have sworn he saw a butterbeer cork necklace flash through the crowd.

Also, he saw numerous people that he assumed to be member's of Fleur's family. He saw one old woman, with long silver hair, who he found unexplainably alluring. He noticed that all the other men in the room were acting a bit odd around her. Harry realized that this woman must be Fleur's veela grandmother. Harry hastily turned away from her and headed in the opposite direction.

He emerged into the backyard under the canopy they had erected earlier. The air was hot and stifled. He could hear the steady patter of the rain on the sheet above his head. He moved among the crowd, greeting familiar faces with a nod, handshake or quick hello, all the while wondering where the bridal party was.

Harry was loitering around the punch table with Ron when Mr. Weasley announced for everyone to take their places. Harry joined into the line beside the door to the Weasley's house. He was behind Charlie, who would be partnered with Tonks, and in front of Ron, who was partnered with Ginny. Harry was partnered with Hermione.

Some where in the background, a piano began to play, and the first of the bridal party, Tonks, started to come from the door, and join with their partners.

Tonks was wearing a long blue gown, which swept the floor around her feet. Her hair was a normal brown today, curly at the end, with blonde highlights. It was left down. Harry thought she moved rather gracefully considering her clumsiness. She smiled at Charlie as she took his arm. They moved off. Next came Hermione, and Harry's jaw dropped.

She was absolutely stunning in the light green dress she had picked out in Diagon Alley. Her feet were hidden by the hen of the dress that swirled around her legs as she walked. She wore a silver chain around her neck, with what looked to be a large teardrop shaped diamond hanging on it, which rested at the top of her cleavage. Her hair was once again straightened, as it had been at the Yule Ball in fourth year. It had been placed up into an elaborate twist that let much of her hair fall freely in loose ringlets down to the middle of her back. A pair of tighter ringlets frames her face, to which she had applied a light coating of makeup.

She approached Harry, and intertwined her arm with his, and they began to walk up the aisle. He had trouble concentrating on walking; he was so enraptured by her presence. His heart had missed a beat as she laid her hand on his arm, and he had held in a breath for a long moment. As they approached, Harry looked toward the altar and saw an old man in white robes at the front, holding a book in one hand, and his wand it the other. He assumed he was the wizarding version of a Muggle priest.

They reached the head of the aisle, and Harry was loath to let go of her, yet he did, and took his place beside Charlie. Ron was beside him a few moments later, but Harry hardly noticed. His eyes were glued to his best friend across in the bridal party.

She noticed him watching, and she gave him a small smile, and her eyes sparkled. She watched him for a second, then turned back to watch the door of the Weasley's house. Harry took her cue, and looked there as well.

As he did, the music changed to the classic wedding tune, and Fleur appeared in the doorway. She looked beautiful in a long white gown. Her silver hair was cascading its full length down her back, and a beautiful tiara was perched on her head. He began down the aisle, with all the eyes on her.

When she reached the front, the ceremony began. There were a lot of words and formalities that Harry didn't really pay attention to. When the time came to say the vows however, his attention perked up, and he watched with interest.

Bill and Fleur grasped hands, and the old wizard-priest placed his wand on their hands. He asked them each questions such as:

"Do you swear that you will love and cherish this man, William Weasley, until death do you part?" or;

"Will you care for this woman, Fleur Delacour, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad?"

As they responded "I do" to each question, a fiery cord coiled around both their arms. When their arms were barely visible under the coils of fire, the priest looked at the crowd, and smiled.

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride!" And bill did just that. He grabbed Fleur by the cheeks, and pulled her in close, and gave her a long deep kiss, surrounded by the roaring and cheering of the crowd.

Several minutes later, the chairs had disappeared, and there were tables all around the lawn, piled high with food. Also, there was a large space left open as a dance area. Harry, Hermione and Ron were all seated around one of the tables, snacking lightly from the food that was there. They had been joined by Neville and Luna, who had also attended the wedding. They were all chatting, when the voices of Fred and George rang out across the enclosure.

"Ladies and gentleman, if we could have you attention please!" Here the voice switched. "It is now time for the bride and groom to have their first dance as a married couple!" Suddenly, several instruments appeared on the edge of the dance floor. They began to play a slow song. Bill and Fleur stepped out onto the dance floor, and everyone watched for a moment before moving to join them. Neville got up with Luna, and they moved off towards the dance floor. Harry had to stifle the amusing thought of how strange the children of such a couple would be. Harry, who had no real intention of dancing, just sat at the table.

Until he saw Ginny coming through the crowd toward their table with a determined look on his face. He looked around for a possible escape route. Hermione noticed his odd behavior, and she looked round. She saw Ginny, and a look of comprehension dawned on her face. She turned back to Harry.

"Harry, would you like to dance?" She asked quickly, right as Ron opened his mouth, and was moving his hand to touch her on the shoulder. He dropped it instantly onto the table, and shut his mouth.

"Sure" Harry said in a relieved voice, not even noticing that his other best friend had just been cut off in his attempt to make a move on Hermione. They stood, and Harry took her arm for the second time that day, and the feeling shot through him again.

They moved out onto the dance floor, and she wrapped her arm around his neck. He wrapped his around her waist, and a shiver ran through him as his fingers brushed against the smooth skin of her back. She was pressed close against him, and he could feel every inch of her body. He could feel the warmth of her breath against the side of his neck, and the small of her filled his head. He couldn't remember feeling more comfortable or more _right_ in a very long time.

The dance lasted for several minutes, and even when the music did end, Harry was loath to let her go once more. But he did, or else it might have made things awkward. Before she stepped back, she went up on her toes, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Thanks for the dance" She said quietly with a smile. Harry smiled back at her, and offered her his hand to lead her back to the table. The noise level had risen again under the small enclosure, but nothing could drown out the cry that pierced the air next.

"INFERI!"

**A/N: YAy! That one is finally done. Sorry if it took a while, but a couple chemistry labs and a French report took up a fair chunk of my time. I hope you enjoy the chapter. Finally a few hints of Harry's strange new feelings towards Hermione. **

**Well Review please!**


	8. Chapter Seven: New Magic

Disclaimer: Nothing by Rowling belongs to me. 'Nuff said.

A/N: Hoped you enjoyed the last chapter, and sorry about the cliffhanger, though it's a mild one. Well Read on, and Review please!

**Chapter Seven: New Magic**

"INFERI" Came the shout from Harry's right. Harry, who still had Hermione's small hand in his own, and was still reveling in the feeling of her lips- her _oh_ so soft lips- on his cheek, felt his stomach fall. He dropped her hand, and looked at her, all the while, pulling his wand free from the folds of his dress robes.

"Run!" He ordered, pushing her toward the Burrow with his left hand, and he turned back towards the cry. She staggered a few steps and then regained her balance.

"Like hell!" She snorted. She too had produced her wand from somewhere among the fabric of her beautiful gown. Harry turned back and glared at her.

"GO!" He shouted, but she held her ground, and shook her head.

"I'm not leaving you!" She cried back at him. He watched her, trying to come up with a valid reason why she shouldn't fight.

"You're wearing a dress! You can't fight in a dress!" he exclaimed at last. She rolled her eyes at this, and shrugged.

"Would you rather I wasn't wearing it?" She asked in a sarcastic tone. Harry had an unbidden, though not unwelcome, image of Hermione in nothing but a bra and panties standing in front of him. He felt his heart racing.

"I wouldn't mind." He muttered, a small smile playing on his lips. She slapped him on the arm, grinning, despite their situation.

"Keep dreaming, Potter." She replied. "Now, we have some Inferi to kill…Again." She finished, uncertainly. You couldn't exactly kill what was already dead. With her statement, they were brought out of their own little bubble, and noticed what was going on around them.

The formerly pleasant wedding scene was now gone. Witches and wizards were flitting about, wands out. There was screaming, and yells as people tried to gather their families together. Dozens of cracks indicated witches and wizards apparating to safety. Harry cast about, trying to find the Order. He saw them, gathered together, with Lupin at their center. They all had their wands out.

"There!" Harry pointed. Hermione, who had also been trying to locate the group, spun on her heel, her green gown flowing around her as she did and her hair flowed about her as well. Harry thought she looked stunning when she did that.

"Let's go!" She said, grabbing his hand, and pulling him through the crowd. Harry felt his heart skip with her touch. He cursed himself for having these reactions at this time.

The Order members were all grim, and they were all looking to Lupin for guidance. Apparently, he was their leader since Dumbledore's fall. Even McGonagall and Moody were differing to him, despite the fact they were both older and more experienced at fighting Dark Wizards. He was addressing them when Harry and Hermione joined the group.

"…vulnerable to flaming attacks. Don't bother with stunners. Body-bind spells will slow them, but not destroy them. There have to be some Death Eaters controlling them. If we can take them down, the Inferi will be rendered useless. Now let's go!" he said, and the Order broke up, heading to the direction from which the cry had emanated about a minute or so ago.

As the Order broke, they saw that Ron, Luna, Ginny and Neville had all been on the other side of the group when Harry and Hermione had arrived. Ron looked at Harry and Hermione, and his eyes flickered down to their still joined hands. His hand tightened on his wand, and his jaw clenched.

"Why are you two holding hands?" Ginny asked, with a trace of menace in her voice, her angry eyes fixed on Hermione. Harry and Hermione both looked down, then at each other, and then they released their hands. They were both blushing spectacularly. Ginny was glowering at them both.

"Now isn't the time for this!" Harry growled at her. She shrunk back from the anger in his voice.

"Now, this is the same as it was at the Ministry. I need you all to follow my orders, even if you don't like them? Agreed?" They all nodded, or mumbled their consent. He shot a look at Hermione, who had just moments ago firmly refused to obey his orders to run. She gave him a small smile, and a nod, indicating that she would obey his orders this time. Harry considered telling her to run now, but he figured that he would be told to shove his wand somewhere very unpleasant.

Harry felt himself being reminded of the oath he swore to Dumbledore in his office on that warm June night. Dumbledore had made him swear to obey him, with no exception. Harry had agreed, but deep down, he had known that he would not have fled if Dumbledore had of ordered him to.

"Alright, you heard Lupin. Flames will bring them down. Don't forget it! Let's go" Harry commanded, and they set off after the Order at a run. The girls in their long, elaborate gowns fell behind quickly as they ran. Harry, Ron and Neville all shed the outer layer of their robes on the run, leaving them pretty much free to move about.

They crested a small rise near the edge of the Weasley property, and saw the Inferi gathered at the foot of the hill. There must have been well over a thousand, possibly more than two. Harry shuddered at the sight of the white, rotting corpses moving slowly across the fields towards the Burrow. Already, the witches and wizards of the Order had blasted their first few volleys of spells at the approaching mass of corpses.

"_Incendio!_" Harry roared over and over again, while he took aim, and fired off half a dozen small fire balls into the center of the advancing mass. They were so thickly concentrated that he had little chance of missing. All about him, his friends were hurling the same spell at the advancing mob. except for Hermione, who was sending a continuous pillar of flame into the ranks of the dead.

"Look for the controlling Death Eaters!" Hermione cried, as she twisted her pillar so that it strafed sideways across the Inferi, creating a momentary open area in its wake.

Apparently, the dead understood that their enemy was near, for they broke into a shambling run, and the Order quickly found themselves out flanked, and trapped. Luckily, Harry and his group were outside the trap. They all concentrated their spells towards the leading Inferi, trying to stop them encircling the Order. However, their efforts were futile, and the ring tightened around the Order.

"We have to get through to them!" Neville yelled as he brought down another Inferi. Harry nodded, and began to run down the hill to the beleaguered wizards. Even as they moved forward, Harry saw one of the Order witches get pulled down by the mob of corpses. Harry sent a fireball into the area surrounding where she went down, but he realized that it would be too late for her.

As the small group pounded down the hill toward the mass of enemies, screams erupted behind them. They ignored the cries, and they continued downhill, knowing that behind them was probably just more Inferi.

_Where the hell is the Ministry? The Aurors should have been alerted by now!_ Harry thought. Now they were merely meters from the Inferi, and their spells were bringing down monster after monster, but the creatures didn't seem to thin at all.

Then all of a sudden, they were pushing through the mass of corpses. Harry felt a cold, clammy hand on his arm, and he blasted the offending creature. He heard Hermione shriek, and he spun toward her. Two Inferi had grabbed hold of her. They had her arms, and they were closing in about her.

"NO!" Harry roared, and, without thinking, he threw himself at them. His punch landed on the first one before he realized that he needed to use his wand, not his hand. He blasted one away, and then, looping his arm round Hermione's waist, he shot the second one, and spun her away from the advancing mob, into the more open space behind them.

As he deposited her on the ground, he saw Ron running uphill, away from the fight. His wand was upraised, and he was looking for something. His broom came flying out of the sky, and he caught it, mounted, and kicked off. He soared into the air, and he disappeared among the slate grey clouds that filled the sky.

"Coward!" Harry barked. Hermione followed Harry's gaze. She shook her head. Harry pushed her forward, and they burst free of the Inferi would were tried to circle them. He half carried her up the hill, and away from the slow moving creatures.

When they gained a moment's respite, Harry turned, and saw that the others had joined up with the order, and that the whole group had pushed its way free of the trap they had been caught in. Seeing that the Order had their situation under control, Harry decided that they should go and investigate the second set of screams. The scream had rung out once, and then they had stopped.

They came over the top of the rise, and Harry saw something that made his heart stop beating. In the yard surrounding the Weasley's house, there were dozens of Dementors. Harry's breath caught in his throat. He had only ever seen this many Dementors in his third year, at the Lake. He had vanquished them then, but he could already feel their powers draining him this time. He looked at the ground, and saw many wizards huddled on the floor, and Harry knew that they had already been kissed. There was nothing they could do to save them.

"I'll take the fucking Inferi." Harry muttered, grabbing Hermione's hand in his, and pulling her back towards the fight with the Inferi. They were still watching the Dementors, transfixed, and they were walking backwards. So, they were completely shocked when they felt cold, dead hands clamping onto their arms and shoulders.

The first thing Harry felt was his hand being ripped from Hermione's, and the second was his wand tumbling from his fingers as his wrist snapped under the iron grip of death. Harry tumbled to his knees, and began to pull left and right, trying to shake of the clammy hands of the Inferi. However, he was already weakened, and their cold touch seemed to be sapping his power even finished.

Suddenly, he heard Hermione's ear-splitting shriek as the Inferi pulled her down too. Harry immediately redoubled his efforts to break free. His good hand broke free of the Inferi's grasp, and not thinking that he didn't have his wand, he raised his hand, and shouted out the spell command.

"_Incendio!_" Harry roared. For a second nothing happened. Then, flames burst into life at Harry's elbow, and then they pulsed down his arm, and shot out of his open palm. However, the spell wasn't the usual concentrated bolt of fire that accompanied the fire spell. Instead, it was a wide sheet of fire, which hit half a dozen of the moving corpses, who immediately fell back from Harry. However, his wand hand was still being held, so he spun in toward the grasping fiends, and let fire again.

Another sheet of fire leapt from his hand, and slapped across the Inferi bodies surrounding him. They fell back, and Harry almost cried out with happiness. He almost cried out, but moments after the second spell fired off, he fell to the ground, exhausted, barely able to move, head spinning. He felt as if he had just run for miles at a sprint. He rolled to his side, gasping for air, and then saw something that made his blood run cold.

Hermione was in the grasp of the Inferi, who were tearing at her skin and her dress as the tried to subdue her.

"Harry!" She shrieked when she saw him lying there. Harry, who was exhausted and feeling near death, felt his exhaustion falling away. He forced himself back to his feet, feeling anger bubbling within him, like a fire waiting to be unleashed. And it was.

As he stood, flames began to appear all along his body, starting at his fingertips, and toes, and racing to cover all of him. He screamed in shock before realizing that the fires weren't hurting him. All weariness he had felt had fallen from him, and he leapt towards the Inferi holding Hermione. He held up his hand towards the nearest one, and the fires on pulsed down his arm, leaving it bare for a moment, and they were flung from his outstretched hand, and they slammed the Inferi in the face, chest, and arms, forcing it to release Hermione.

Almost as soon as the flames flew off his arm, they rekindled. Harry, who wasn't bothering to wonder about this incredible phenomenon, threw himself at the next corpse. He laid into them with his fist, leaving burning marks wherever he struck.

Within seconds, Harry had driven off and killed the remaining dozen Inferi in their area. As the last one fell and crumbled, Harry looked down and saw Hermione looking up at him, her eyes wide with shock and amazement. He noticed that there was a long cut on her arm, and a bruise on her face. But she was safe. The flames covering his body receded as rapidly as they had appeared. Harry gave Hermione a weak smile, and then he collapsed at her feet, unconscious.

Harry awoke to a very familiar scene. He was lying in a bed, surrounded by people, not entirely sure why he was there, or what was going on, hearing the dull whispering that often surrounded the bed of an injured person. Everything was blurry, so he groped around on the bedside table for his glasses with his left hand. His right was throbbing, and he vaguely remembered his wrist being snapped. He felt the round wire frames beneath his hand, and he jammed them onto his face.

The room came into focus, and he saw that the Weasleys, Hermione, Luna, Neville, Tonks and Lupin were all standing, or sitting around his bed in Ron's room. Hermione was perched on the edge of his bed, and she was holding his hand, stroking the back of it with her thumb. Harry, now awake, made no effort to move his hand away, despite the fact that all the while Hermione was getting shot dirty looks from Ginny and Ron. Either no one noticed, or simply no one cared.

"Wutmidoinher?" He said groggily. When all he received in response was confused stares, he tried again.

"What am I doing here?" He asked. There were some glances exchanged around him, another thing Harry was all too familiar with as well.

"Well, Harry…" Hermione began, but she broke off, unsure of how to proceed. She looked over at Lupin. He stepped forward, and took over.

"Well, Hermione said that you two were grabbed by the Inferi, and you were both stripped of your wands. She said that you… you did magic without your wand." Harry was greeted by a flash of memories, and he nodded.

"Yeah… I just remember needing to use the spell, and it just came from my hand when I yelled the spell. How did that happen?" Harry asked, sitting up in his bed.

"Well, you see, magic can be done without wands. They are merely focusing devices for our powers, much like a crystal can focus light. Did you notice anything different about the spell you used?" Lupin inquired. He looked quite excited. Harry figured that Lupin was excited to be part of an interesting magical phenomenon. This was the professor in him. Harry thought hard about he spell that he had used, Incendio.

"Yeah… it was different. Shaped different, it was like a sheet, instead of a bolt of fire." Harry told him.

"That exactly what I thought should have happened. Without your wand, the energy of the spell was unfocused, so you just sent fire everywhere instead of to one spot!" He explained excitedly. Harry was pretty sure he understood, but wanted to be sure.

"If I were to try and levitate something in this room without my wand, I would just lift everything?" He asked. Lupin nodded his agreement. Harry had another question for him.

"Is it possible to focus the energies from a wandless spell, so that it would be just as concentrated as one cast with a wand?" Lupin was silent for a moment. He shrugged slightly before responding.

"That's a theoretical possibility. There are two schools of thought. The first is that raw magic, or wandless magic, is completely uncontrollable. The second is that the spells can be refined and controlled if sufficient amount of training and concentration were given over to the study of wandless magic. However, as no one really practices the use of wandless magic, there hasn't been extensive study into the issue." Lupin broke off and watched Harry, as if expecting another question to come.

"Sir, what do you think?" Harry pressed. Lupin smiled at him. It looked like he had been expecting Harry to ask him this.

"I believe that with practice and effort, the control of that type of magic would be significantly easier to control. Just like anything that is done in life, the more time spent developing the skills, the better the results shall be." Harry was quite sure that Lupin was prompting him to try and experiment with his new found skills. However, Harry saw one major drawback to this idea.

"Remus, after I used the fire bolt spell twice without my wand, I was exhausted. That doesn't make any sense. I could cast that spell dozens of time before I got that tired." Harry wondered. Lupin nodded, and Harry was glad to see that his old professor had another answer for him.

"Well, I'm no great expert in this branch of magic, but as far as I know, it takes much more energy to cast a spell without a wand or some form of focusing device, like a staff, than to cast one with a wand. I have a much greater magical endurance than you due to my age, and I doubt that I could cast more than five or six spells." Lupin explained. Harry stayed silent and absorbed what Lupin had just told him. Hermione, on the other hand, was still extremely curious.

"But, professor, after he had fallen onto the ground after driving away the Inferi that were around him… he… well he… got _covered_ in fire." She told him. Lupin looked taken aback by this newest development. He turned away from Hermione and, along with everyone else in the room, gaped at Harry.

"Done something else incredible, have I?" he asked wearily. He was getting seriously fed up of being the one that everything happened to. Lupin nodded in response, and Harry sighed.

"What is it this time?" he asked, but Lupin shook his head. He looked troubled.

"I'm sorry Harry, but I don't know anything about this type of magic. Dumbledore would have known a lot about it. I'll… I'll have to have a look in my books, and in the library at Hogwarts. Until then, I don't know…" With that, he took his leave, waving goodbye, and taking Tonks by the hand.

"Bye!" She said as they two of them exited the room, and they could hear the sound of them descending the stairs. Now that Harry was done talking with Lupin, Mrs. Weasley hurried over, and began to check on Harry. He resisted weakly, but she put down his efforts.

"You've got to be checked!" She growled at him. After about a minute of Mrs. Weasley running her wand around Harry's body, checking his temperature, and feeling his pulse, she seemed satisfied that Harry was, in fact, fine. She stepped back from him, and shooed everybody from the room, stating that he needed sleep. However, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all refused to move.

"Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked, indicating the three of them. Harry looked at them, and nodded. He decided that he wasn't willing to deal with the crap that Ginny would bring up, like him and Hermione holding hands, which he found surprisingly nice and comforting.

"Take Ginny." He asked her. Ginny's mouth hung open in shock, and she look as though she was ready to scream. Mrs. Weasley nodded, and gripped her only daughter by the arm, and pulled her from the room. As the door to the highest room in the house was shut, they heard Ginny finally begin to scream.

"LET ME BACK IN THERE!" They heard her yelling before Hermione, thankfully, put a silencing charm on the room, and all outside sounds were blocked out. Inside the room was equally silent for a moment as they all had their own private thoughts. Harry was trying to remember the details of the fight that had been going on before he had woken up here. However, the last thing he remembered clearly was charging down the hill with the others along side of him.

"What happened after I passed out?" He asked, and Ron face split into a huge grin. At that moment, Harry remembered Ron jumping onto his broom, and fleeing the fight. He shot up onto his elbows on the bed, shocking Hermione, who was still holding onto his hand.

"What do you have to grin about, you ran like a coward!" Harry snapped, feeling his anger bubbling to the surface. Ron merely shook his head, still smiling.

"I didn't _run!_ He sad viciously, his eyes once again darting to Harry and Hermione's joined hands. His eyes were there for a fraction of a second before they returned to Harry's.

"I saw the Death Eaters, and I went for them. It was the sounder tactical move than fighting the Inferi. Knock out the controlling unit, and they're useless!" Ron told him. Harry felt his anger subside as Ron explained what had happened. It seemed that Ron had single handedly knockout three Death Eaters, and with their Dark Magic no longer empowering the moving corpses, they had mostly fallen to the ground. A few had apparently continued to battle. Harry assumed that these were ones enchanted by Voldemort. They must have had a predetermined task, like the ones in the cave. Voldemort had certainly not been controlling them then. Harry told them as much.

Both Hermione and Ron were a little shocked at Harry's revelation about what had happened in the cave. They hadn't heard him talk about what had befallen him and Dumbledore while they were out of Hogwarts, except that they had retrieved the fake Horcrux. Thankfully, neither of them pressed Harry to reveal anymore information about the night that Dumbledore died.

They stayed silent for a long moment, and Harry noticed Ron's eyes flickering frequently down to his and Hermione's joined hands. Harry had been unconsciously stroking her hand as well. Grudgingly, he pulled his hand out of Hermione's grasp. He glanced at her, and he received a reproachful glare. He shrugged slightly, and they turned their attention back to Ron, who was watching their exchange intently. As they looked at him, he looked away.

"Well, after the Order took down the last few Inferi, they came back up the hill, and found you passed out on the ground, Harry, and Hermione was trying to revive you, but you wouldn't wake. Lupin ordered you to be moved up here, and then well, you woke up a few minutes later." Ron explained. Harry nodded. He knew what had happened after that. Another few moments of silence passed in the group.

"What about the Dementors. There were nearly a hundred of them! How did you manage to deal with so many, especially after a fight with Inferi?" Harry asked. He hated that he had missed so much of what had happened around him while he was out.

"I was wondering that too, actually. I guess the Order drove them off" Said Hermione. Harry looked at her. She had been awake, and should have helped to fight them off if that was required. She flushed under Harry's scrutiny.

"Well, you see…I was a little too occupied with you at the time. I couldn't conjure up a patronus because I was so distraught. I could barely think straight." She said quietly, not looking at Harry. Harry was immediately reminded of the overwhelming feelings he had had during the fight in the Department of Mysteries, when Dolohov had hit Hermione with his curse.

"Thank you for worrying about me." Harry said quietly, gripping her hand and squeezing it lightly. She squeezed it back, and gave him a small smile. They stared at each other for a moment, before Ron cleared his throat loudly. They both snapped their heads round, and dropped each others hand rapidly.

"Yes, well… I'd better go. You need to rest." She commanded as she stood, brushing a strand of her long brown hair behind her ear. She gave him one last look, and then stepped out and closed the door. Harry was left alone with Ron. Another moment of silence passed between them Harry had never passed a more awkward moment alone with Ron.

"I never got to dance with Hermione." Ron said matter of factly. Harry immediately felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He had been dancing with Hermione just to escape Ginny, and Ron had wanted to dance with her for more important reasons than that.

_And even, worse, I enjoyed it! _Harry thought, and his stomach squirmed with even greater guilt. He felt honestly terrible about the fact that he had stolen Ron's chance at the wedding.

"Sorry, mate!" Harry said quickly. Ron held up a hand, and cut him short. Harry could tell that he was just being a good friend, despite the fact that Harry hadn't been.

"Don't worry about it Harry. I mean, she asked you to dance, not the other way around, right?" Ron said, sounding miserable. Harry realized that Ron thought Hermione had asked him to dance out of feelings for him, rather than to protect him from Ginny's advances.

"Ron, you don't understand." Harry replied, "She just danced with me because she saw Ginny coming over to try and get me to dance. She was just saving me from Ginny. Believe me, if the wedding hadn't been interrupted, she would have _loved_ to dance with you!" Ron looked marginally more cheerful at this.

"So… do you…uhh…do you think she likes me?" Ron asked a few seconds later, straining to make his voice sound casually. Harry had never heard someone fail quite so spectacularly. However, in the spirit of being a good friend, Harry nodded, if somewhat reluctantly.

He was sure that Hermione had feelings for Ron after all that had happened last year with Ron and Lavender, but he also thought that their constant bickering went beyond the norm of two people who liked each other. There were times when they were at each others throats.

And besides, if they got together, where would that leave Harry? As the third wheel? He wasn't entirely sure that he would be comfortable if his two friends actually did finally get together. Harry had a mental image of Ron and Hermione kissing, and he felt his stomach tighten, and he felt vaguely sick.

"I guess" Harry said, shrugging. He was a lot more successful at sounding casual than Ron had been. Truthfully, Harry thought that Ron wouldn't notice either way. Ron wasn't the greatest (okay, he's one of the worst) at picking up emotions and verbal inflections. Harry had several times been extremely sarcastic with Ron, and his friend had completely missed it.

Ron looked a lot more cheerful after Harry had told him that he thought that Hermione liked him. He smiled at Harry, who smiled back at him. There was a brief awkward moment, but they were saved by Mrs. Weasley's shout from downstairs, forcing them to appear from the room. Apparently, he wasn't going to be getting the rest that he had been expecting.

As they hastened out of the house a minute or so later, the sight that greeted them was one of complete and total destruction. There were tables, chairs, and bodies everywhere. It appeared as if the Dementors had gotten more than fifty victims. Harry shuddered at the sight of all the huddled forms lying on the ground. He remembered just how close he had come to being kissed in his third year. He let out a subconscious shudder at the thought of the hundreds of Dementors surrounding him.

The lovely wedding was completely ruined, and in the place of happiness and joy, there was sorrow and anger. Somber witches and wizards moved among the shattered remains of the party. The bodies were being placed inside black bags and disappearing as wands were waved at them. Harry didn't know where they were going, but he had a strong hunch that they would be going. He suspected that the bodies were being sent to the magical hospital St. Mungo's.

"Harry! Ron!" Came Hermione's voice from off to their left, towards the rise over which Harry knew there were thousands of corpses. Thankfully, all of those corpses were now immobile. They both turned and saw Hermione walking towards them.

She had changed out of her green dress, which had been ruined by the Inferi. She was now wearing a pair of tight black pants, and a white t-shirt. Her hair was still the same as it had been at the wedding, although it had been somewhat ruined by the exertion of the battle. Harry thought that she looked hot in the clothes she was wearing. His glance at Ron showed that he thought the exact same thing.

"They need us to help disposing of the Inferi. There are so many to deal with." She said, sounding weary. She gestured over her shoulder, and Harry saw a few thin columns of dark black smoke spiraling across the sky. He assumed that they were dealing with the bodies by burning, to be sure that they couldn't be used again.

"Burning?" He asked, and she nodded. Ron's face adopted a confused impression, and Hermione was forced to explain it to him.

"We are going to burn all of the Inferi bodies, so that they can't be reanimated and used against us again." She told him. Comprehension dawn on his face, and he sighed.

"There were _hundreds_ of them! This is going to take forever1" He complained loudly, as they made their way over to the hill.

"At least they won't be fighting back this time." Harry commented from beside him. Up ahead, Hermione nodded her assent. Both boys had fallen back a few paces, and were in the process of enjoying the view that Hermione's tight pants were offering them. Harry noticed that Ron was staring at her as her hips swayed side to side, and felt a twinge of annoyance.

"Stop staring" Harry hissed under his breath to Ron, who immediately snapped his head up, and looked away from Hermione.

"What are you on about, mate?" Ron asked. If he was embarrassed at all about being caught staring at his best friends (admittedly nice) bum, he covered it well under a layer of confusion.

"You're staring at her like a brainless git. Don't do it." Harry warned him. Ron gave Harry a cold look, and shrugged his shoulders.

"I'll look all I want." He replied angrily. Harry bit back a retort. Instead, he merely looked away from Ron, and hustled up beside Hermione. She smiled at him, and he returned it. Ron caught up to the two of them just as they were cresting the rise where they had fought the Inferi. There was a large scorched area of grass a few dozens feet ahead of them.

"That's where you… you know… lit on fire." Hermione told him, leaning in close to him, and pointing at the massive scorch mark, which covered about ten square meters. Harry looked at it in wonder.

_What the hell did I do?_ He wondered. He was excited by this strange new magic, but scared by it at the same time. He hated that so many things happened to him that were beyond his control. He had no clue if would have any control over this new skill he had uncovered. He wished so hard that he had Dumbledore to advise him on what was happening to him.

Further down the hill, there were the thousands of thankfully immobile bodies. Half a dozen witches and wizards were moving around, floating the bodies into great piles, and igniting them with fireballs from their wands. The trio wasted no time in getting to work.

Without thinking, he raised his wand in his right hand, and gave it a wave to levitate the corpse at his feet. Unfortunately, that was his recently broken wrist, and pain lanced through his arm. He gasped out in shock, and quickly shifted his wand to his left hand, and got to work.

Harry levitated the corpses in silence, using this as excellent practice for non-verbal spells. At the same time, he tried to keep his mind clear, and practice his Occlumency.

He hated everything about the skill, especially since he had first been introduced to it by the traitorous murderer, Snape. However, after his duel with Snape at the end of the year, after he had killed Dumbledore, it was apparent that without the use of Occlumency, he would have no chance of defeating Snape in a fight, let alone Voldemort.

So, each time he went to raise another corpse, he tried hard to clear his mind of all thought. Unfortunately, he was as unsuccessful now as he had always been at trying to rid his mind of all thought. Especially since his eyes kept wandering to Hermione as she worked, and Ron kept muttering a string of obscene curses under his breath as he performed his work.

Harry soon had a pile of about twenty corpses, and he was already feeling quite tired. Apparently, the use of the wandless magic had taken much more out of him then he had expected. Still, he was determined to get better at using it, since it might give him a small advantage over other witches or wizards he might fight.

So, when he was satisfied that his pile was big enough to merit burning, he resolutely raised his open palm towards the pile.

_Incendio!_ He thought. His voice rang through his head, but no fire leapt from his open palm. Angrily, Harry repeated the word again, this time thinking as well about how much he _needed_ the flames to come forth. This time, a few sparks ran down the length of his arm, and shot from his outstretched hand. He felt his confidence bolstered, but his energy felt drained from even such a little spell.

Though he was tired, he tried again and again, focusing more and more on how much he needed to spell to be cast, until at last, a sheet of flames burst from his hand, and slammed into the pile of bodies. He immediately regretted his desire to try and use the wandless magic, for his head swam, and everything went blurry. He felt himself tumble to the ground, and heard Hermione's loud shriek before he lost consciousness for the second time that day.

"Harry!"

When he awoke this time, he was still on the grass, and only Hermione and Ron were crouched around him. His head was pounding, and he felt like he was going to throw up.

"Harry, are you okay?" Ron asked immediately upon seeing Harry's eyes come open. Harry nodded weakly, and then rolled over, and threw up all of Ron's shoes.

"Thanks." Ron said, waving his wand to make the vomit disappear. Hermione was rubbing Harry's back as he led on his side.

"Harry, what did you do?" Hermione asked in an exasperated voice. Harry could tell she already had a suspicion of what he did. So, he refrained from answer for a moment, and he avoided her inquisitive gaze.

"Harry!" She prompted sternly. Harry rolled back towards her, and looked at the ground at her feet. She sighed.

"Why did you do it, Harry? You knew what would happen. Didn't you? Lupin explained the consequences!" She demanded. Harry just shrugged, and pushed himself into a sitting position. His head spun for a moment, but he stayed sitting upright.

"I need to practice. It's a skill, like quidditch. All I need to do is practice it, and I'll be a lot better at it." Harry told her. He had every intention of continuing to cast wandless spells. Ron looked between the two of them, searching for an explanation of what had transpired.

"Harry, casting a spell without using a focusing device is immensely draining on your energy. You were already exhausted from fighting the Inferi, and you _still_ used the spell anyways. Do you ever think before you act?" She snapped.

"Believe it or not, Hermione, I am completely capable of thinking without you!" Harry snapped back. He had gotten fed up of Hermione trying to control what he did last year at Hogwarts.

"Well, you do an excellent job of showing that, you prick." She barked. She stood up, and spun on her heel, sending her brown hair swirling around her again, and she stalked away. Harry and Ron passed a few seconds in silence watching her.

"You know, Harry, you could always apologize." Ron said, with a small smile on his lips. Harry had told him this numerous times over the years, and Ron was enjoying being able to turn the table son Harry.

"Stuff it" Harry growled as Ron got to his feet.

"See, its not much use when it's said to you is it?" Ron laughed at him, and offered his hand to help him up. Harry nodded, and grasped Ron's hand, and clambered to his feet.

Harry and Ron both pulled out their wands, and got back to work. Harry was extremely exhausted, and he was only moving one corpse for every three that Ron tossed into his pile. By the time Harry had ten piled up, Ron already had two fires burning brightly, destroying the Inferi bodies. Harry let another one fall onto his pile, and looked around at the hundreds that were still littering the ground nearby.

"You know," Harry stated aloud, causing Hermione and Ron to look round at him, "Even though we are going to destroy all of these bodies, there are still thousands more he can create Inferi with. And if he can't find more bodies, he'll just kill more people."

"Then we'll take them down too." Ron offered. His voice was filled with confidence. Harry looked at Ron, and saw iron hard determination glinting in his eyes.

"Besides, we won't let him kill anyone if we have our say about it." Hermione added. Harry looked over at her, and saw a similar look of determination etched upon her beautiful features. The setting sun was catching her face in the most cliché of ways, and Harry thought he had never seen anyone look so beautiful.

"He'll kill again, and again. Probably hundreds more before we even have a hope in hell of stopping him. It's no use deluding ourselves to think that we can stop him before he hurts anybody. He will." Harry said, but his voice was now carrying a sense of conviction, like he thought that they _would_ defeat Voldemort eventually.

The group exchanged looks, as if reassuring each other that they were all there, and that they would continue to be there during the rest of their struggle with Voldemort.

"Well. If he's going to be killing people, we'll need to find his Horcruxes even faster, won't we?" Ron asked. Harry and Hermione both nodded. However, this task sounded a lot easier in theory than in practice. It had taken Dumbledore months to track down the location of the locket, and he and Harry had had to endure terrible ordeals trying to rescue the locket from the seaside cave.

"It's not like we haven't been trying. Harry and I have been researching for a little over a week, trying to find any mention of Horcruxes. We exhausted all the seemingly useful books at the Grimmauld Place." Hermione complained. Ron looked from Harry to Hermione with a stunned look on his face.

"You two were together before you came here?" Ron asked. Harry rolled his eyes, and shared a look with Hermione, who looked equally exasperated.

"Didn't you notice when we showed up together?" Harry replied. Ron nodded, but it was apparent that he hadn't realized that they had been staying together before they had come to the Burrow.

"Well, yeah, Hermione was staying with me at Grimmauld Place. She was helping me with research. We didn't invite you because we figured you would be too busy helping with Bill's wedding and all." Harry explained. The fact of the matter was, he hadn't even thought about asking Ron to come as well. Truthfully, he hadn't really invited Hermione either. She had just kind of shown up.

_How _did_ she know I was there? I made Tonks and Lupin swear not to tell her or Ron that I was at Sirius' house. _He thought angrily. He made a mental note to get Hermione to tell him how the hell she had found where he was. If Tonks and Lupin had betrayed him to her, he would be really pissed.

"Oh, that's good." Ron said in a voice that indicated that he did not think that it was good at all. Harry guessed that having the girl he liked 'shacked up' with his best friend wasn't exactly a good thing in his mind.

Thankfully, they were saved anymore of the increasingly awkward conversation by Mr. Weasley's magically intensified voice calling them in for dinner.

They walked back to the Burrow in complete silence, each with their own thoughts. Ron was brooding, shooting looks at Harry every now and then. He had placed himself between his two best friends, as if afraid Harry would jump Hermione right then and there, and steal her from him.

_And he doesn't even have her!_ Harry thought, annoyed. He immediately felt guilty about such a low comment, even if he had just thought it.

In the Burrow's back yard, several long tables had been set up, and there were a few dozen people already seated around the table. Harry recognized many of the Order members, and even a few of his Hogwarts professors.

As his eyes traveled around the table, he saw Professor McGonagall motioning for him and his friends to take the three empty seats to her left. Harry nodded, and sat down next to the venerable Headmistress.

"Evening, Professor." Harry said as he sat down. To his left, Ron pulled out the next chair over, and Hermione quickly slide into it with a glare at Ron.

"Evening, Potter." She replied curtly. Harry could tell that she had something she wished to discuss with him, but she merely took another bite of the chicken breast that sat on her plate.

Harry, seeing that she was going to take her time, grabbed some food off the table, and turned to Ron and Hermione, both of whom were pointedly not looking at each other. Harry figured that Ron's reaction to the fact that they had been together without him had annoyed her.

Harry, with the little knowledge he had about women, knew that _trust_ was one of the most important things in a relationship. If Ron was getting moody about Harry and Hermione spending time alone even before they were together, he wouldn't have a hope in hell of trusting her if they did date.

At this time, Harry wasn't in the mood to deal with one of their little spats, so he decided he would try to bring some levity to the table.

"Hey Ron, how about we have a game of quidditch tomorrow?" Harry asked him. Ron looked up, and there was a look of excitement on his face. No matter what happened, quidditch (especially no pressure quidditch) always brought up Ron's spirits.

"Brilliant! We'll have me, Ginny and Charlie against you, Fred and George." Ron replied, dividing up the team fairly evenly, based on terms of flying skill. Harry thought this seemed fair enough. He was about to agree when Hermione made an indignant noise form in between them.

"And what about me?" she asked. Ron regarded her strangely for a moment, and then he shrugged.

"I don't know, you can go read a book or something." He told her. Harry groaned as Hermione's eyes went wide in anger, and he knew that his best mate had once again put his foot, perhaps his whole leg, into his wide open mouth.

_Silencio!_ Harry thought, jabbing his wand at Hermione, who had just opened her mouth to scream at Ron. Thankfully, Harry's charm caught her just in time, and her screams of anger died in her throat. She paused, confused and then whirled to look at Harry who was still holding his wand in his hand.

"Of course you can play, Hermione." Harry stated quickly, trying his best to diffuse her mounting anger. She smiled at him, and gestured to her mouth. Harry nodded, and lifted the silencing charm.

"Thank you, Harry." She said, and then she shot a dirty look at Ron. Harry thought he saw another argument in the making, and moved to divert it once again.

"So…" he began, drawing the pair's eyes back to him, "I guess teams will be Hermione, Charlie and I stick all." Harry prompted. Ron nodded. Hermione was completely brutal at quidditch, and Charlie and Harry were both incredible. However, all of the other Weasleys were good players, so the teams were quite balanced.

"Sounds good!" Ron said happily, and he dove into the plate of chicken and potatoes he had filled for himself. Harry turned back to his own food, and took a huge bite of chicken. As he chewed, Hermione leaned forward, and spoke across him to McGonagall.

"Good Evening, Professor. How are you?" She asked politely. McGonagall finished her mouthful of food before replying.

"Not so bad, I suppose. I am exhausted. Fighting like what we saw today is not easy, and I am not young by any stretch of the imagination. You?" She replied. Hermione gave a non-committal shrug, and another moment of silence passed in the group.

"Are they going to reopen the school, Professor?" Hermione asked. Her voice was anxious, curious. Harry didn't particularly care, as he had made the decision that he would not be returning even if the school _did_ reopen, but he was curious as to what McGonagall was going to do.

"Well, that had yet to be decided. There is one thing that the governors need to know before they decide whether or not they are going to close the school." She told them. Harry had the feeling that they were getting close to the reason why she had asked Harry to sit next to her. Somehow, he knew, this thing the governors needed was in someway linked to him.

"What do they need to know?" Harry demanded. The Headmistress was clearly not used to being addressed in such a tone by one of her students, but she said nothing about it.

"Well, Potter, they said the reopening of the school is conditional to one thing." She answered, not really giving a response to Harry's question.

"Which is?" Harry prompted. The headmistress looked him straight in the eye for a moment, and then looked away, as if she did not want to tell him whatever she was going to say next.

"They say that the school will only open if _you _return." She said quietly. Harry sat there in shock for a second.

"Fuck!" She swore loudly, before getting up from the table and stalking away, followed by the dozens of sets of eyes around the table.

**A/N: Another one down… err… up! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please review, as the inspiration to write is a lot easier to find when you know people are reading your work. **

**Well, I'll try and get the next one up ASAP, but I can't give any promises, as I have a massive thesis essay for my World History class due in about two weeks. **

**Dave**


	9. Chapter 8: Fists and Heads

**Disclaimer: Nothing by Rowling belongs to me. 'Nuff said.**

**A/N: Yay! I actually got a semi-decent amount of reviews for the last chapter! Well, I hope you all enjoyed it. This chapter might not be as action filled as the last one, but there will be some plot advancing info shed, courtesy of Lupin.**

**Oh, and my thesis essay got pushed back by a fair bit, so I have time to write! **

**The first part of this chapter is really from Hermione's POV, in a third person limited omniscient style, just like the rest of the story. But instead of insight into Harry, we have insight into Hermione. The shift back to Harry should be noticeable. **

**Well, let's get the ball rolling…**

**Chapter Eight: Fists and Heads**

"They say that the school will only open if _you _return." McGonagall said quietly. Harry sat there in shock for a second.

"Fuck!" He swore loudly, before getting up from the table and stalking away, followed by the dozens of sets of eyes around the table. He went into the burrow, and the door slammed behind him. The entire table was silent as they watched him go. Hermione and Ron watched him leave as well, and then shared a quick glance.

The pair of them had been around Harry long enough to know when he needed to be left alone and now was _definitely_ one of those times. The silence began to be broken up by quiet whispers, and then in no time at all, the conversation level at the table returned to normal.

Hermione, Ron, nor McGonagall said anything while the noise level increased again. Only when there was a comfortable level of ambient noise did they speak.

"Why was he so upset?" queried McGonagall, who, of course, had no idea that Harry had no intention of returning to the wizarding school even if it did reopen.

"You see, professor, Harry doesn't want to return to Hogwarts this year." Hermione explained, leaving out the exact reason why Harry wouldn't be returning.

"And why wouldn't he want to return to the school?" She demanded. Hermione and Ron exchanged another look. They both knew that it wasn't their place to reveal the information that Harry had entrusted them with.

"Well?" McGonagall prompted, her voice holding the sharp edge that commanded respect and obedience from her students. She was giving them a hard look, and Ron squirmed in his seat. He could never hold up under pressure. Hermione smacked him on the arm, and he looked at her, and then back at his plate, firmly avoiding both Hermione's and McGonagall's gaze.

McGonagall took note of this quick exchange, and fixed Hermione with an even harder look. To her credit, Hermione's returning glare was as cold as ice.

"I'm sorry, but it's not up to me to tell you that." Hermione responded. McGonagall glared at her for a moment, and then nodded.

"Why does it matter if Harry goes back?" Ron asked. Hermione and the Headmistress turned and looked at him, and he shrugged.

"Well… it's the obvious question." Ron explained, once again squirming under the scrutiny he was receiving.

"The Ministry has promised extra protection for the school if Harry is there. Apparently only the 'Chosen One' is deserving of the Ministry's extra protection. And without that extra protection, the governors are strongly against reopening the school." McGonagall sounded bitter and angry. Apparently, she thought all of her students were important enough to merit whatever protection the Minister had promised to the school.

"What sort of extra protection did they promise to give the school if he returned?" Hermione pressed.

"Well, if Harry doesn't return to the school, they have promised us a battalion of Aurors. If he_ does_ return to the school, we have been promised two battalions from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, and a battalion of Aurors." McGonagall explained.

"I can see why the governors would much rather it if Harry were to return to the school." Hermione responded. McGonagall and Ron both nodded their agreement.

"I don't think it matters, though," Ron said, "you're going to have one hell of a time convincing Harry to return, especially since he doesn't wanna go."

"He'll go." Hermione said, her voice completely certain. Ron gave her a doubtful look.

"How do you know that?" he demanded.

"Because I know Harry." She replied. Ron continued to give her a look, so she sighed, and got up from the table, figuring that she had left Harry alone long enough for him to calm down a bit.

"I'm going to find Harry." She told them. As she walked away from the table, she missed the glare Ron was giving her back.

She approached the door slowly, and pushed it open gently. The door hinges squealed loudly as the door moved.

_Funny, I never noticed that the door squeaked before. _She thought as the intrusive sound hung in the air. She pushed the door closed behind her, and a quick glance around told her Harry wasn't in the room. She checked the kitchen, and he wasn't there either.

She hadn't expected him to linger on the ground floor. Knowing Harry, he had gone to the top of the stairs, and hidden in Ron's bedroom. His tactic was usually to run as far away from his problem as possible, unless it could be solved with a curse, hex or jinx.

_Boys… they're all the same!_ She thought in irritation. She walked up the stairs as quietly and quickly as she could. As she got higher, she could here him stomping around in Ron's room, and she was certain that she heard a cage go clattering across the floor.

She reached the top floor, and stood outside the door, listening to him moving around the room, and muttering under his breath. She stepped forward, and rapped hard on the door.

"Go away!" Came the quick and predictable reply. She rolled her eyes, and slammed on the door with an open palm.

"Open the door, Harry!" She ordered. There was a bout of mutinous grumbling, and then the door swung open. Hermione smiled at him, and stepped into the room.

The room was a tip. Hedwig's cage was up against the wall, its frame all bent out of shape. The sheets were thrown all over the floor, and the pillows were all over the place. Odds and ends were thrown all over the place; socks, small toys, comics, spell books.

Hermione looked around the room, and then fixed Harry with a hard look. He just shrugged, and flopped down on the bed. He stretched out, and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses.

Hermione quickly went about putting the room straight. She fixed Hedwig's cage, and levitated it back onto the top of Ron's wardrobe. She threw the spell books onto the dresser with a flick of her wand, and repaired all of the broken toys and ripped comics, and banished them into the far corner of the room, where they assembled themselves in neat piles.

She turned back to Harry, who was watching her through half closed eyes. She gave him a half smile, and sat down on Ron's bed across from him, and she laid out as well, mimicking his movements. She watched him out of the side of her eyes, and noticed that he was doing the same.

Silence hung in the room. The sound of the dinner drifted up through the open window. Hermione turned on her side, looking full at Harry, who didn't react to her change in position.

"Harry?" She asked, trying to get him to look at her. In response, he rolled his head to the side, and gave her an inquisitive look.

"What?" He grunted, speaking to her for the first time since she had entered the room.

"You know very well what!" She snapped, irritated. Harry smiled a bit, and he looked like he was laughing at her.

"What are you laughing at me, Potter?" She snarled. He shrugged, and his smiled widened a bit.

"God, if you want to be immature, you go ahead and … and be that way!" She retorted. Harry now let out an actually laugh.

"Who's the immature one now?" Harry asked her, grinning widely. She almost snapped back at him, but bit back her response, realizing quite what she had said. She put her hands over her face, and laughed at herself.

"Stuff it, you prat!" She growled, trying to cover her laughter with feigned anger. They both shared a laugh at her expense, but she didn't mind. After their laughter tapered off, they both led there in silence.

"So are you going back?" Hermione asked after a long moment.

"No!" he replied instantly, and Hermione could tell right away that he was lying. Hermione rolled her eyes at the all too predictable response.

"Oh, of course the hundreds of kids, and future generations of British witches and wizards will understand why they can't go to school in their own country. They'll accept that it came down to one wizard, who was being a selfish baby about not wanting to return to school." She answered, her voice light and airy.

Harry sat up quickly, and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. He leapt to his feet, and his face was contorted in anger.

"Is that what you think?!" He roared. Hermione almost cringed back at the anger in his voice, and the horrible expression on his face. _Almost_. However, she knew she must remain impassive if her ruse were to work.

"That's precisely what I think." She countered, her voice cool and calm. His eyes flashed dangerously, and she knew she was pushing the limits of his self-control. She still remembered him loosing it on her before. The images were still all too vivid.

"You know that that isn't true! You bloody well know the reason I'm not going back. You more than anyone understand why I can't!" He shouted. She did indeed understand his reasons for not wanting to return to the castle, but she also thought that they were emotional reasons, not rational ones.

"I know _why_ you don't want to go back, Harry, but I don't agree with your reasons. Everything indicates that you should go back to Hogwarts. There is a huge library, a huge number of the Order of the Phoenix is there, and you would be better protected than anywhere else in the world from Voldemort and his Death Eaters!" She shot back.

Harry listened to her statements, and Hermione could see that he had given in to her logic by the way his shoulders slumped just a bit. She got a small smile on her face, but she hid it quickly, in case he should see it, and get all riled up.

"You know I'm right Harry. You know you should go back. So, are you going back?" She pressed again. He turned to her, his face grim.

"You knew from the moment you came in here that I was going back." He told her, and she could only nod. It was after all, the truth, and she saw no point in lying to him. She had known from the moment the words had left McGonagall's mouth that Harry would be returning to the school.

She had just thought it would be better if she pretended that she was unsure of what his actions would be. Apparently, he saw straight through her attempt. '

"Am I really that predictable?" He asked her, dropping down on the bed by her legs. She sat up, and threw her arm around his shoulders.

"Yeah… you really are." She said, laughing. He gave her a sidelong look, and he gave her an evil grin.

"Am I really?" He said and his voice held just a trace of laughter. She nodded. He shrugged, and lunged at her, catching her completely off guard.

"Harry!" She squealed as they rolled around on Ron's bed. His hands pressed at her sides, tickling her mercilessly. She squirmed and shook as she tried to get him off her. Finally, she earned herself a moment's respite, and rolled out from underneath Harry. As soon as she was free, she launched herself back at Harry, tackling him.

Now it was her hands that tried to find a ticklish spot on him, but she wasn't able to find any. Apparently, he was one of the few people that weren't ticklish in the slightest. After a quick battle, Harry and Hermione both gave up their quick battle.

Hermione was led on top of Harry, with her hands placed on the bed next to Harry's neck. His hands were on her hips, and they were both breathing hard from the exertion of their little tickling battle. Their clothes were all messed up and Hermione's bushy hair was even more out of control then usually. Harry's usually messed up hair looked exactly the same as always.

Harry smile dup at Hermione, whose face was only inches away from his own. Her skin was flushed and Harry thought that she looked quite pretty at that moment. She smiled back at him. Harry felt his breath getting shorter, and his heart beating faster.

"Were you expecting that?" He asked her breathlessly. She shook her head, still breathing heavily. She was about to respond when they both heard the door swing open. Their heads swiveled round, and they saw Ron standing in the doorway, a shocked look on his features.

They all stared at each other for a second, then Ron slammed the door, and they could hear his rapid footfalls on the stairs.

"Ron!" Harry called out, but he was already gone away back down the stairs. Harry and Hermione both turned their heads from the door, and looked at each other. They both realized what a compromising position they had just been seen in. With some reluctance, Harry shifted Hermione's comfortable weight off of him.

He felt strangely light after he had lifted her off him, and he was certain that he had been more comfortable with her lying on top of him. He shook off the feeling, and straightened his clothes, and watched as Hermione did the same.

"One of us should go after him." Hermione suggested quietly, not looking at Harry. He nodded, even though she wasn't looking.

"Yeah. I'll go." He told her, and he crossed the room, and walked down the stairs, his mind whirling with the thoughts of what had just happened, and the confusion over what had happened to him with Hermione. His shortened breath and his quickened heart were both confusing him.

The night air was cool and fresh on Harry's skin. The last light of the day had faded while he had been inside the house. The table was emptier than it had been when he left, of both food and people. The loud boisterous conversations of the dinner had simmered down to several smaller, more intimate conversations.

As Harry approached the table, McGonagall caught his eye, and made a subtle motion towards the trees that sheltered the Weasley's makeshift quidditch pitch. She had a questioning look on her face.

Harry understood that she had seen Ron go storming out, and he nodded his thanks to her. He walked past the table calmly. Within a minute or so, the quiet murmurs of the dinner table had faded away, and Harry was left in the silence.

As he was out on his own, he slid his wand from his pocket, and looked around, ears pricked up for a sound.

_I probably shouldn't be out on my own… Hermione would kill me, not to mention the Remus and McGonagall. _Harry thought as he stepped into the trees that surrounded the pitch. However, his pride retorted that he was a capable wizard and that he had proven himself many times over. He walked on, feeling more comfortable with that thought.

He didn't notice the two forms that flitted through the trees, shadowing his movements.

As Harry moved farther into the growth of trees, he didn't hear anything, and he thought perhaps that Ron was trying to avoid him. As such, Harry lifted his wand, and lit it, so that Ron would see him coming, and could have the option of avoiding him if he wanted to.

Harry, who had become accustomed to the darkness of the outcropping, squinted against the bright light that flares from his wand. The beams of light were hampered by the trees, but the area immediately around him was lit up as bright as day. He moved on slowly, making a fair amount of noise, so that Ron would be alerted to his presence.

He continued through the trees, and the darkness outside of his bubble of light began to become oppressive. Harry's eyes darted left and right, chasing imaginary shadows that he saw flitting through the edges of his wand-light.

_You're imagining things._ He snapped at himself, and he forced himself to stop looking around, and ignore the shadows that played around him. As such, he didn't take notice of a flicker out of the corner of his eye as he moved past a particularly large tree, emerging into a small clearing.

As such, the spell that launched him off his feet as it hit him the back caught him completely off guard. He soared through the air, and landed hard on the ground. He gasped for breath, and rolled around to see Ron standing in the gap between the trees, his wand upraised. The point of light on Harry's wand had extinguished, but the clearing was filled with moonlight, allowing the two ample light to see by.

"Ron…you don't understand…" Harry gasped, still fighting for breath. His words came out in a barely audible whisper. Ron's face was contorted in anger, and he looked as if his rage was beyond words. Though it was hard to tell in the dim light, Harry thought that he had been crying. He took a step forward and, aimed his wand at Harry.

Harry reacted on pure instinct, rolling to his right as a flash of light flew at him. Ron had muttered the spell, giving Harry a split second warning of what he was going to do.

As he rolled, Harry thrust his wand forwards, casting the knock back jinx, the same one Ron had used on him moments before. The red head was picked up and launched flying, and he slammed into a tree trunk on the edge of the clearing, and Harry saw his wand go. Harry summoned it quickly, and pocketed it.

Harry lowered his wand, thinking that he had defeated Ron. He slid it into his pocket next to Ron'. He moved over towards where he had seen his friend go down moments before. He saw his friend beginning to rise, and he hurried over to help him. He was greeted with a flying punch.

Harry grunted in shock as Ron's fist collided with the side of his face. He felt the skin tear open, and only had a moment to contemplate just how hard Ron had hit him when a second blow rocked him in the side. He stumbled, but straightened almost immediately. It hurt, to be sure, but Harry knew that balance and stance was crucial in a fist fight.

He had heard Dudley and Uncle Vernon discussing boxing tactics many times during his summer before fifth year. He had listened for once, being genuinely interested in their conversation for the first time in his life, since he had been older than five years of age.

As he straightened, Ron launched another punch, but Harry intercepted it with his palm, and lashed out with his own right, cracking Ron across the jaw. His lanky friend rolled with the blow, taking a step to the side, and launching another punch at Harry, who took the blow on the arm.

"Ron!" Harry shouted, grabbing his friend's wrists as he tried to punch him again, "Calm down. It's not what you think!" Ron struggled against the hold that Harry had on his arms, and contented himself with snapping his head forward when he was unable to do so, and slamming his face full into Harry's. Harry felt the flow of blood warm across his cheek, and he was certain that his nose was broken. They broke apart, Ron balling his fists, and Harry clutching his nose.

"I saw you Harry!" He roared, "Don't you think I know what the hell you were doing? HOW COULD YOU!" With that, his fist came round again, but Harry merely dropped to the ground, and pulled out his wand in a fluid motion. Ron, already in the midst of his punch, overbalanced as his fist flew wide, and stumbled.

"_Incarcerous_!" Harry barked, and thick ropes appeared in mid-air, and bound his angry friend. Ron slumped to the ground, and Harry rose to his feet, and brushed himself on. He felt the swelling on the side of his face, and winced. That was going to be one hell of a shiner. He inspected his bleeding nose, and found that, surprisingly, it was not broken.

"How could you! You knew I liked her!" Ron shrieked from the ground, struggling against the bonds that trapped him. Harry approached him, but backed off quickly when Ron tried to kick him.

"I didn't do anything, Ron!" Harry shot back, knowing his friend wouldn't believe him. Ron spat at him, but the spit landed short.

'Don't patronize me, you son of a bitch!" Ron shouted, "I bloody well know what the fuck I saw! You two were snogging!" His struggling intensified, and Harry took a step back, wondering if he was going to have to stun his friend.

"No, we weren't. We were just messing around!" Harry insisted. Ron now looked livid, and his eyes bulged.

"That's even worse! You touched her Harry! I'll tear you apart!" Ron screamed. Harry shook his head, realizing that Ron had taken his words 'messing around' completely out of context.

"Not 'messing around' like that, you git!" Harry shot back, "messing around as in two friends having some fun. I was tickling her, and she pinned me! We are _just friends_!" Ron's fighting slowed a bit.

"Nothing happened?" He asked quietly, and Harry nodded earnestly. Ron was still looking at him suspiciously, but he stopped struggling.

"It just looked… well… you know… it looked like…" Ron stuttered. Harry nodded.

"I know what it must have looked like, but believe me, nothing happened." Harry insisted. Ron seemed to calm down a lot.

"Of course… you wouldn't ever do anything like that to me… I mean you are my best mate… best mates don't steal each other's girls." Ron answered, and Harry smiled uncertainly.

_She's not your girl!_ Harry nearly blurted out, but he caught himself before he did. He figured that that little statement wouldn't do anything to pacify the red head's volatile temper. In fact, he was sure that it would have the exact opposite effect. More to the point, he wondered why that was his first thought.

As the red head seemed much calmer, Harry raised his wand, and the rope coils disappeared into thin air. Harry extended his hand, and help Ron back to his feet. Harry noticed the long bruise that was on his chin, and the bloody that was on his lips.

"Sorry about that." Harry said, pointing to Ron's face. Ron felt his jaw line, and pulled the fingers away with a little bit of blood on the tips.

"Hey, I gave as good as I got." Ron said, with a little bit of a laugh. Harry nodded in earnest, and he felt his sore face again. He thought Ron had knocked one of his teeth loose. A quick probing poke with his tongue indicated that one of his molars was indeed hanging by just the nerves.

"Eh, your mum will fix us up good as new in no time." Harry said, and a look of fear crossed his face. Clearly, he did not relish the idea of telling his mother that he had been fighting Harry over their best friend.

"Uh… let's get someone else to fix us up. Not Hermione, though." Ron added hastily. Harry could understand that she probably wouldn't like fixing them up after a fight they had over her.

"Well, McGonagall would want to know why we were fighting, so not her… Lupin?" Harry suggested, and Ron nodded in earnest. They both thought that the ex-Marauder wouldn't ask them too many questions.

They went wide around the dinner table, so that no one would see them, and they could avoid awkward questions. After all, they were both bruised and bloodied from their fight.

"Oh, here…" Harry said, pulling Ron's wand from his pocket, and handing it back to him. Ron thanked him, and slid it away. They spotted Lupin and Tonks, and they cut towards them, keeping their faces averted from the table, and acting as normal as possible.

"Remus!" Harry hissed as they came up behind them. The two sitting at the table turned around, and Tonks gasped in shock at the sight of the two boys faces.

"What happened, Harry?" Remus asked, his eyes roaming over Harry's face, with his torn cheek, and large bruise, to Ron's, with his bloodied lips, and bruised jaw.

"We had a… disagreement." Harry answered evasively. Remus arched an eyebrow, and looked between them again.

"What sort of disagreement?" He asked, and Harry shrugged.

"Not really important. We just need to be fixed up." Ron answered before Harry could. Tonks looked at them both, clearly a little confused by what was going on.

"Why not go to your mum, or Hermione?" she asked Ron, who shifted uncomfortably.

"Well, mum would go berserk if she saw me like this, and well… we just can't go to Hermione." Ron replied, and Harry noticed that Lupin's eyes went wide at this statement, as he realized what had happened.

"Oh, well, I won't say no one ever wondered if this would happen…" he muttered quietly, waving his wand at Harry's face. He felt the wound knitting itself closed, and the bruise faded, bu the pain remained. He watched the werewolf do the same to Ron's face.

"Bloody brilliant!" Ron exclaimed, as he felt his own face, noticing that the external damage was gone.

"You're welcome." Lupin said, with a smile on his face. Harry hoped that the werewolf wouldn't tell anyone what had happened.

"You won't, well... you know… tell anyone, will you?" Harry asked. Lupin nodded, and Harry let out a sigh of relief.

"Thanks mate!" Ron exclaimed, and the two boys turned and moved towards the house. They were halfway there before Mrs. Weasley saw them.

"You two! Get back here, and help us clean up!" She ordered. They turned around, grumbling, and they both drew out their wands. Mrs. Weasley saw Harry with her wand out, and she shook her head at him.

"You aren't seventeen yet, Harry! No magic!" she told him, and he grudgingly put his wand back into his pocket, and left Ron to do most of the cleaning. He waved his wand, and the plates were mostly all clean, and another wave stacked them in the center of the table. Harry grabbed them, and brought them into the house.

As he passed through the back door, he was greeted by the sight of two people actively engaged with each other. He saw a flash of bright pink hair, and he bit back a laugh. Instead, he cleared his throat loudly, and watched in amusement as the two figures hastily extracted themselves from one another.

"Very nice, you two. How about a room next time?" He asked teasingly. Lupin rolled his eyes, and Tonks stuck out her tongue.

"Nice comeback!" Harry snapped in response, and the two smiled at him. As they stood there, Harry remembered wanting to ask Tonks about how Hermione had known to come to Grimmauld Place.

"Hey Tonks, I was speaking with Hermione earlier, and I remembered something. Do you know what I remembered?" He asked her. His voice indicated that he wasn't happy about something. Tonks just shrugged, apparently not catching the tone of his voice.

"How should I know?" She responded cheekily. Harry glared at her, and her smile wilted a bit.

"It had something to do with a promise made by a certain witch and wizard not to tell another certain witch and wizard where a certain wizard was!" Harry said, his voice measured.

"A certain witch, wizard… what?" She responded.

"You told Hermione where I was!' Harry snapped, and she shrank back a bit from his voice. She shook her head, though, denying his accusations.

"Don't lie to me! How else would she have known that I was there?" He demanded, and this time Tonks smiled.

"Well, you see, you made me promise not to tell _Hermione_, but you said nothing about not telling Hermione's _parents_." She explained, looking rather proud of herself. Harry stared at her in shock.

"Well… that's… that's… it's not any different to telling her!" Harry stuttered. Tonks merely shrugged.

"I didn't break my promise, though." She justified, and Harry knew that he couldn't argue with her reasoning, although he disagreed with it.

"Well, not really, but you still went against it!" He argued, and she shrugged again.

'Not my problem. I wasn't just going to let you mope alone in the dark. Remus agreed with me." She told him, and Harry shot a dirty look at the former professor, who was shaking his head and holding up his hands.

"I did not, woman!" He retorted, receiving a slap on the arm for it. Tonks gave him a slant-eyed look out of the corner of her eye.

"Thanks a lot for the support, _darling_." She drawled, sarcasm veritably dripping from her voice.

"Anytime, oh my beloved!" He replied, bowing low to her. As he did so, she belted him on the back of his head.

"Someone is sleeping in the doghouse tonight!" She growled at him, and then she turned on her heel, and stalked off. They both watched her leave.

"Don't worry; she can't spend a night without me!" He exclaimed, winking at Harry, who shuddered.

"Never again, Moony, never again." Harry responded, holding his hand up to the professor, "Too much bloody information." Lupin just laughed, and walked away, following after his girlfriend.

Harry shook his head, trying to rid himself of the images that had cropped up in his head, all involving a certain forty-something wizard, and a pink haired witch. He felt a shudder course down his spine, and he shook his head a final time.

He moved into the kitchen, and dropped the plates onto the table, when a pair of hands snaked around his eyes, and someone began to kiss his neck softly. It felt good, and Harry moaned softly. He almost allowed himself to melt into the kiss before he realized who it had to be.

He jerked his head violently to the side, and spun around. Standing there, shocked, was Ginny. Her lips were glistening. Harry stared at her, wide-eyed.

'Ginny?! What the hell?" he snapped and she shrank back from him. She suddenly became very interested in the ground at Harry's feet.

"I… I just thought that maybe…" She trailed off, muttering indecipherable words.

"You clearly _didn't_ think!" He responded, and she gave a half hearted shrug. Harry rolled his eyes at her, and shouldered past her. He turned at the door.

"Ginny, we are _through_! I don't need you coming after me at every turn. I'm not going to get back together with you." He told her, his voice a little harsher than intended.

"I don't understand, Harry! How can I mean _nothing _to you, so fast?" She cried, and Harry squirmed uncomfortably, unsure of how to answer. He moved back to her.

"You don't mean _nothing_ to me. You are still my friend, but nothing more… not anymore." He told her, putting his hands on her arms. She looked up at him, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

"I'm sorry, but things for me are different now. I have things that I have to do. Things that only _I_ can do." He said to her, his voice soft. She shook her head at him, and hit her fists against his chest.

"If only _you_ can do them, then why is Hermione going with you?" she demanded, and Harry knew from that one sentence, that she, like Cho before her, was jealous of the close relationship that he had with Hermione.

"Hermione is… Hermione is Hermione." Harry told her, and he meant just that. Hermione was different. She was part of Harry, part of his life, as much as his arm, his leg or his eyes. She was with him every step he had taken. Hermione, Harry and Ron, three inseparable friends.

That fact, their friendship, would always be there, the one constant in their lives. Other things, other friends would come and go, but always, the three of them, would stay together. Sure, they had their disagreements, and their fights, but they had always come through them, and ended up as a group again.

Harry drew strength from his two best friends. He was confident that they would be there for him, in all circumstances, and that they would never leave him.

"Hermione is more important than _me_?" Ginny asked him, and Harry was taken aback by her question.

"Of course." He replied before he thought. Ginny looked shocked. She stepped back from him, throwing his arms off of hers. She stormed past him, and he thought that she was crying. He didn't follow her.

He sat down at the table, and leaned back against the chair. He had never meant to hurt Ginny, but he didn't know how else he was going to get her to stop pursuing him either. When he had answered that Hermione was more important than her, he had meant it. She would always be more important to him than any girl he would ever meet. He knew that he would be hard pressed to find a girl that understood that his unique relationship with Hermione.

He sighed loudly, just as Ron entered the room.

"Yeah, thanks for the help out there, mate" Ron said dryly, completely oblivious to Harry's loud sigh.

"Yeah, no problem." Harry replied, "It's not like you could use magic or anything." Ron shrugged, and yawned loudly.

"I suppose." He answered, "God, I am tired." He yawned again, as if to prove his point.

"Me too." Harry said, and he rose from the table, and the pair of them trudged up the stairs in silence. Harry pushed open the door to Ron's room, and was happy to see that Hermione had fixed the rumpled sheets, removing the reminder of what had happened from the room.

Harry slid into his bed, after dropping his clothes to the floor, and dropped his head against the pillow.

"Oh, McGonagall is going to be coming back tomorrow… she wants her answer." Ron told him. Harry groaned.

"Great" He said.

"Are you? Going back, I mean?" Ron asked, and Harry rolled to his side and stared at him across the gap between the beds.

"What do you think?" He asked.

"Hermione said you would." Ron answered. Harry smiled.

"Yeah… I am." Harry answered.

"Wicked." Ron muttered sleepily. Seconds later, a loud snore indicated that he had gone to sleep. Harry sighed, and rolled onto his back, and closed his eyes.

"Get up!" Came a female voice. Harry groaned, and rolled awake from the hand that was shaking his shoulder.

"Five minutes." He grumbled, and he pulled the sheets above his head.

"Honestly!" the voice said again, filled with impatience. Harry felt the sheets being ripped off him, and he shivered in the cold. His eyes snapped open, and he glared at the figure with a fuzz of brown surrounding his head.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted upon realizing who it was, and more importantly, upon realizing that he was wearing nothing more than a pair of boxers. He fumbled for his glasses, and jammed them onto his face. He looked round at his friend, whose eyes were roaming his chest and abs.

"Hermione?" Harry asked teasingly, and waved his in front of her face. Her head snapped up instantly, and she blushed very deeply.

"Oh… my… umm… wake up Ron… McGonagall is here…" She answered, trailing off as her eyes flicked back to Harry's chest. She blinked furiously, and fled to the door.

Harry laughed at her after she was gone. He had never seen her act like that before, except when she had been staring at Ron and Lavender the year before. He smiled, and did something he had never done before. He stood in front of the mirror in Ron's room, and he flexed his muscles.

He had to admit, he was in pretty good shape. Quidditch training had given him finely toned muscles, and the hard gardening work of the Dursleys had had him lugging around several heavy potted plants, and on eight separate occasions, a new bench. He was certain they bought them just so he would have to carry them around.

And then, of course, they couldn't decide where they wanted it, so he was picking it up and carrying it all over the garden for several hours while the sat in the shade of their desk canopy, and sipped icy cool lemonade.

He checked himself out for another minute or so, before deciding that he was indeed quite well toned. Then, he shrugged a shirt on, and prodded Ron awake with his foot.

"Idunwangerup!" Ron protested, and Harry just kicked him even harder in the ribs.

"Wake up, you lazy git!" Harry told him, and Ron sat up, and looked around blearily.

"I'm up." He said, before falling backwards onto his pillow, and rolling onto his side. Harry sighed and pulled out his wand.

_Levicorpus! _He thought, and flicked his wand. Ron soared up out of his bed, and dangled a few feet above the sheets.

"Witty." Ron retorted when he realized what had happened. Harry laughed, and released him, and Ron bounced on the bed.

"Hurry up, McGonagall is here, and apparently she wants to speak with us." Harry told him, and Ron nodded.

Twenty minutes later, they had both been through the shower, and they trotted down the stairs to the kitchen, to find a grumpy McGonagall, and an even grumpier Hermione.

"That's what you call fast?!" Hermione demanded. Harry looked at her.

"You never said anything about coming downstairs fast." Harry told her, and Hermione nodded furiously.

"I did!" she replied.

"Actually, you were a little too preoccupied to say much at all!" Harry reminded her, and she blushed deeply. Ron looked between them, confused.

"What?" He asked, and Harry shook his head, not wanting to rehash this debate with his friend at that exact moment of time. Just like telling Ron 'She's not you girl' would have infuriated him, Harry was certain this would as well.

"If you are done, may I proceed?" McGonagall asked, eyeing Harry and Hermione. They both nodded.

"Very well. Now, Potter, we have to discuss whether or not you will be returning to the school." She said, rather unnecessarily. Everyone in the room knew very well why the Headmistress was there, so the pretence was rather silly.

"Ok." Harry answered.

"Well? Are you?" she asked in an exasperated voice. Harry smiled, and looked at Hermione.

"Of course." He said, turning back to McGonagall.

"Yes, Miss Granger said you would be returning. Good, good." She said, "Well, then, if that is settled, then I will be taking my leave." She announced, rising from the table, and smoothing her robes.

"Oh, its not _quite_ settled, Professor." Harry said cheekily. The Headmistress whirled around and shot him an incredulous glare.

"Well, you see, if I do return, there are special privileges I require." Harry told her, and McGonagall sat back down at the table.

"And these privileges would be, Potter?" She demanded.

"I will require unlimited access to any reading materials in the entire school, including those that belonged to Professor Dumbledore." He answered, looking at Hermione again.

"Fine." McGonagall said after a lengthy pause, "However, I forbid you to demand anyone's personal journals or diaries." Harry agreed, thinking that nobody at the school would know anything about his intended topic of research.

"Secondly, I must be allowed to leave the grounds whenever I desire. Hermione and Ron as well." He added. McGonagall shook her head.

"Well, then, I apologize, but I shall not be returning to Hogwarts this year, Professor." Harry told her, his voice deadly serious. McGonagall stared at him incredulously. Harry merely shrugged and stood up from the table.

"I'll be seeing you, then." He said, rising from the table. He was out the door and on the first step of the stairs when he heard he call out.

'Potter!" She cried. Harry allowed himself a smile before sliding on a serious face again.

"Yes, Professor?" He inquired innocently when he returned to the kitchen.

"You may leave the castle when you must." She acquiesced, and Harry beamed at her.

"Glad we could work that out, Professor." Harry said happily, "One last rule, though." She rolled her eyes, and nodded, motioning for him to continue.

"You see, I can't have anyone question why I need these things. They just have to accept that it's between myself, and Professor Dumbledore." He told her, and she looked at him, her eyes glistening. She just nodded, and Harry smiled at her.

"Thank you, Professor." Harry told her. She nodded, and sniffed.

"Now, Potter. To make things easier on you, it will be most convenient if you and your friends were to have your own dormitories. The only way for this to happen is if you were the Head Boy and Girl." She told them. They all sat still for a moment, digesting what she had just said.

"Oh my god!" Hermione squealed as the realization hit her, "I'm Head Girl!" She cried, and threw her arms around the nearest person, who just happened to be Ron. He beamed as she hung onto him, but she released him quickly, and threw herself onto Harry, causing Ron's grin to falter.

"Who's Head Boy, then?" Ron asked, and McGonagall turned to him with a very serious face.

"Mr. Potter." She said, and Ron's face fell, just a bit.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley." She said, patting him on the shoulder. Ron shrugged.

"Nah, it's ok. I was never much good at this prefect lark anyways." He said, and he grinned. She gave him a tight lipped smile, and turned to Harry, who had incidentally, had not let go of Hermione, who had hugged him even tighter upon hearing that he would be the counterpart.

"Oh, Harry, this is so exciting!" She squealed. Harry nodded, smiling.

"I guess." He said, trying not to appear to enthusiastic, for Ron's sake. Hermione squeezed him one last time, then let go. He was a little sad when she let go, but he shook the feeling off almost instantly.

"So, the three of us have our own dorms, then?" Harry asked, and McGonagall shook her head.

"No. You and Miss Granger have your own dorms. I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, but you will have to remain in Gryffindor tower." She added, upon seeing Ron's outraged face. He opened his mouth to protest.

"This is NOT negotiable." She told him, with no trace of uncertainty in her voice. Ron slumped down in his seat, staring moodily at the table in front of him.

"Well, if that is all, then I am afraid I must be going." McGonagall stated again, rising from the table.

The three of them said their goodbyes, and McGonagall disappeared with into the other room. They heard the sounds of whooshing flames, and a stern bark of 'The Three Broomsticks'.

"This is amazing!" Hermione squealed again. She was literally bouncing in her seat. She shot up from the chair, and started to gnaw on her finger nails.

"Oh no, no, no!" She cried, suddenly very concerned. Harry and Ron shared a look before turning to her.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked. She shot him a look that said 'Are you kidding me?', as if it was obvious why she was so distraught.

"We go back to school in a month, and I haven't even started my holiday assignments!" She whined, and Harry laughed at her. Ron just scoffed.

"Are you _kidding _me? Christ, don't be such a bookworm!" he snapped, and Hermione whirled on him.

"_Bookworm?!_" she hissed, and Ron nodded defiantly.

"Just because _you _didn't get Head boy, don't take it out on me!" She retorted, and then she turned on her heel, and stormed out of the room.

"What's her problem?' Ron asked after she had been gone a safe amount of time. Harry, wanting to preserve the peace, merely shrugged.

**A/N: YAY! Un de plus, c'est fini! Another one bites the dust.**

**Ok folks, chapter eight is FINITO, DONE! Ok… enough euphemisms. I hope you all enjoyed it, and review PLEASE! Reviews are food to an author's soul. **

**shadowmage2006: **_It's not my goal to make it seem that way. I'll try to avoid doing that in my future chapters. Do you think that them falling is sort of a gradual, true to life sort of way? It was what I was going for. 'Believable enough that is could have been from the real books'? You flatter me! Thank you!_

**potterfan ():** _Hopefully this chapter explained why he was a deciding factor._

**Viopathartic:** _I'm in my final year at high school. Thanks for pointing that error out. I'll have it fixed ASAP._

**Alatoic01:** _Did you really like it? I thought it was pretty original... most stories he is just Superpower!Harry, and I find that quite annoying. Not tooting my own horn or anything. _


	10. Chapter 9: Insight into Magic

**Disclaimer: Nothing by Rowling belongs to me. 'Nuff said.**

**A/N: Hey again! It turns out I lied to you all last chapter… Lupin was SUPPOSED to be there, but he never ended up showing up, did he… I'll bring him in here, unless a lot goes wrong. **

**Let's lock and load!**

**Chapter Nine: Insight into Magic**

Over the next several days, Harry was resigned to playing the middle man between two friends who seemed likely to never speak to each other again- again! He was seriously fed up of the stupid arguments that they got into. However, Ron's behavior in this case was driving Harry round the bend as well.

It wasn't like Harry didn't understand where Ron's feelings of anger were coming from. He had once again been eclipsed by Harry's shadow, to Harry's great dismay. But more than that, Ron was angry that the girl he likes is going to be 'shacked up' with his best mate for a whole year.

Even though Harry had assured him that they were just friends. Even though Harry had assured him he had no motives towards Hermione. Even though the decision to put them in the private Head quarters hadn't been made by Harry, Ron still seemed to think that Harry was going to take this opportunity to get with Hermione.

Harry was farther than frustrated with Ron at the moment. He didn't know how exactly he was supposed to convince Ron that he had no designs against 'his girl'. They had rehashed this argument so many times that Harry was half convinced that Ron thought that him and Hermione snuck off for quick shags whenever he wasn't looking.

Hermione was even angrier at Ron. His 'bookworm' comment had stung her profoundly, even though it was nothing that she hadn't heard before. The only difference was that Ron had never before been so vicious to her, except when they were in the midst of a fight.

Hermione was determinedly ignoring Ron, treating any seat that held him as an empty seat, and any words that he spoke were totally unheard by her ears.

Ron, however, was going out of his way to punish the pair of them. He made snide comments about studying, never aimed directly at Hermione, but everybody knew who he was talking about. He also made nasty jokes about superstars and spoiled brats, which everyone near them understood as references to Harry.

As such, Harry and Hermione were currently cloistered in Ginny's room, with extensive door locking and sound muting charms over the entrance way and the window. They were both in surly moods because of Ron, who seemed to have absolutely nothing better to do than go out of his way to anger them.

They were now hunched over giant six foot essays that had been assigned to them by Slughorn on the uses of unicorn parts in the making of healing potions. Harry only had a little over two feet done, while Hermione was busily plowing through her fifth foot, with her tiny cramped writing. Harry rubbed his eyes, irritated, and leaned away from his essay.

"This is ridiculous!" Harry spat. He had spent the better part of the last two hours producing the two feet (and a bit) of his essay. He looked over at Hermione, who hadn't replied, and saw that her hand was still rocketing from side to side across the page, and laying down impeccably neat after impeccably neat sentence. As she wrote, she had her tongue sticking out between her teeth, and Harry found his eyes being drawn repeatedly to her pink lips and tongue.

He shook his head, ridding himself of the feeling. He looked back over at the text book that he was referencing, and decided that he wouldn't be able to finish anything else today, at least for Potions. He closed the book with a decisive snapping sound, which caused Hermione to look up.

"You can't stop, you only have two feet!" She scolded him, looking over his parchment. He just shrugged, and leaned back onto the side of Hermione's bed, on which Hermione was lying. She gave him a glare worthy of McGonagall, and huffed.

"You have to finish your homework. You're _Head Boy_ for pity's sake!" She told him, and he rolled his eyes.

"That doesn't mean I have to get it done right now." He replied, and she snorted.

"Fine, then don't some looking to me when you want help on the last day of August, because I won't be helping you!" She snapped angrily.

"Don't jump down my throat because you are mad at Ron." Harry warned, and she made an apologetic face.

"Sorry, I'm just really frustrated with him at the moment." She said, and Harry nodded. She looked back down at her own essay, and changed the subject quickly.

"I _think _I'm done, but I'm really not sure as to whether or not I put enough about the use of unicorn livers in healing potions. Maybe I should just start over…" She trailed off, gnawing on her lip in a way that Harry found quite cute, though he shook the thought from his head the moment it entered.

"God, shut up, Hermione!' Harry said jokingly, and it elicited a smile from the anxious witch.

"We both know that your essay will get an 'O' from Slughorn" Harry told her, and she shot him a look.

"You could just spill the ink onto your paper and get an 'O' from Slughorn. He _loves_ you. You are an angel in his eyes, and are incapable of doing any wrong." She retorted, holding her arms around he stomach to indicate being fat, and she made kissing faces at Harry, and moaned the words 'Oh Harry' in a most sensual voice.

As she moaned out his name like that, Harry felt his heart skip a beat, and his breath catch in his throat. It sounded so… _erotic_ coming from her mouth in that breathy, sensual voice. Harry stared at her in shock for a second before realizing that she had been making fun of him. He joined her in laughter, covering his confusion at his reaction.

"You are just jealous that there is a teacher who likes me more than you. I mean, all of the teachers love you! McGonagall, Sprout, Vector, Flitwick; they all think that you are the be all and end all of wizarding students. I wouldn't be surprised if they made a 'Hermione Granger Award for being the Smartest in Everything' after you graduate." He replied, and she merely shrugged.

"I expect they will. It'll match well with the 'Harry Potter Award for being Good at Everything that just Takes Balls" that they are going to make after _you _graduate." She said, and Harry laughed.

"Yeah, I'm sure that they are going to make an award like that… Good work!" He retorted sarcastically.

"Hey, I only had a few seconds for a reply. It wasn't bad, considering the time constraints!" She defended, and Harry shrugged.

"I guess." He said with a laugh. He couldn't remember a time when they had just hung out like this, two friends without anything in the world bugging them. Pure relaxation was a rare thing in the life of Harry James Potter, and as such, he relished every moment that he had.

"Finish your essay!" She ordered in a suddenly harsh voice, although her attempt at anger failed because of the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Yes, mistress!" Harry responded in a mock groveling voice, bowing so that his forehead touched the ground between his legs, and throwing his arms out in front of him and waving them up and down.

"Oh, don't be such a git, Harry!" She said laughing. Harry continued to prostrate himself in front of her, and received a clout to the back of his head with the heavy potions text book for his troubles.

"My god, Hermione, there is no need to beat me!" Harry exclaimed, with his voice edging towards crying, and his lower lip trembling. All intentionally of course, but there was no need for Hermione to know that.

"I'm so sorry, Harry!" She squealed, her hand covering her mouth. She looked flustered for a moment, and didn't notice that Harry was laughing at her once again. When she did, she drew herself up angrily.

"You are such a prat, Harry James Potter!" She shrieked, and Harry spent the better part of a minute blocking and dodging furious swipes of the textbook. Eventually, he caught the book and pulled it from her grasp after a brief fight.

"Don't hit me, woman!" He warned mockingly, and she pretended to cower in fear.

"Come on, Harry, essay!" She prompted, and he rolled his eyes, and picked up his quill. He pulled his essay back to him, and began to write. He realized that Hermione was watching him over his shoulders from on the bed.

"Do you mind?" he inquired, turning his head to look at her.

"No." She replied, and pivoted his head so it was looking at the paper. Harry didn't do anything for a moment.

"Write!" She hissed in his ear, so he dipped his quill into the ink, and began to scrawl a lazy sentence about the use of unicorn livers. As he did, he heard Hermione give a disgusted sigh, and reach over his shoulder and pluck the quill from his fingers. As she leaned past him, her hair fell across his face and shoulder, and he caught a waft of a fruity smell that he couldn't quite discern as one fruit.

"Christ, Harry, do you even pay attention to what you are reading in the textbook? Unicorn livers are sliced for use in healing potions, not ground. And you forgot to add that the use of unicorn liver will neutralize most poisons." She told him, as her hand moved all over his essay, crossing things out and making corrections all over the page.

Harry allowed himself a smile. He had known that it would come to this at some point on this essay; Hermione holding the quill, and making corrections to Harry's poorly done essay. However, he had not expected it to come with the added stipulation of having her leaned over him while she did it.

Harry was skimming through the textbook while Hermione continued to make corrections, and expand on the sentences that he had already written.

"Done!" She said a minute or so later, and she dropped the quill, and leaned away from Harry, who felt slightly cold after she had moved away. He attributed this to the fact that she had been covering his shoulder and upper arm with her body.

"Thanks, Hermione." Harry said, smiling at her over his shoulder. She gave him a quick smile in return, and then stretched out, arching her back in a way that stuck out her chest, and accentuated her breasts. Harry caught himself staring almost immediately, and looked away, but not before the image of Hermione's lovely breasts had burned itself into his mind.

"Lunch?" She suggested, and Harry nodded. His stomach growled in response to her invitation.

"Sounds like a plan." He said, jumping to his feet. He offered his hand to Hermione to help her up. She looked at it for a moment, shocked, and then she grabbed it.

"Thank you, that was very gentlemanly, Harry." She said, and Harry fidgeted awkwardly, playing with the collar of his shirt, and she released his hand.

"Yeah, well… Let's go eat." He said, and she nodded. They both raised their wands, and undid their respective charms on the door. Neither of them uttered a word; they had both become quite adept at non-verbal magic.

They trudged down the stairs, and the floors creaked under their footfalls. They were on the main floor and into the kitchen a few moments later.

"Look who decided to join us, Little Miss Perfect, and the Boy Wonder!" Ron sniped from his seat at the table.

"Oh, sod off, Ron. It's not our fault you didn't get Head Boy!" Hermione retorted while Harry made a rude hand gesture. He knew perfectly well that that wasn't the reason that Ron was angry. He was mad at the perceived threat of Harry moving in on his (unclaimed) territory. And said territory would be Hermione.

"Of course, it's my fault for being an idiot." He snapped back, and the pair of them rolled their eyes.

"If you aren't an idiot, stop doing your best to act like one." Harry told him, and Ron snorted.

"What, and act more like you?" He asked, and Harry shrugged.

"If that is the way you see it, then fine, act more like me… or maybe, act more like Ron Weasley, and not some angry git." He replied.

"You remind me of Malfoy at the moment, actually." Hermione said, examining her nails, not looking at Ron.

"I do, do I?" Ron said, rising to his feet. Harry's hands slipped into his pocket, and grasped his wand tightly. It was a reaction that he noticed he was developing.

"Yes." She said simply, and Ron looked as if he was going to explode. Harry whipped out his wand, and cast a quick silencing charm on Ron, causing his shouts to die in his throat. He whirled towards Harry, his eyes livid. He whipped out his own wand, and tried to remove the charm, but Harry's magic was too powerful for Ron to overcome with his voice.

"Ron, calm down!" Harry commanded, and Ron shot him a dirty look, but he stopped moving, and glared at Harry.

"Look, it's not like we are going to exclude you at all. You will know the password to our quarters. We'll give you more slack than the other prefects." Harry promised, and Hermione made an indignant sound behind him.

"I'm not giving anyone any preferential treatment." She told him when he looked round.

"You're not helping!" He hissed, and she shrugged.

"Fine, _I'll_ give you more slack." Harry said. Ron shrugged, and made a motion to indicate he wanted to talk. Harry removed the silencing charm with another wave of his wand.  
"Thanks," he said, his voice calmer than it had been, "I guess, I don't know, it just feels like I am getting passed over again." Ron explained, his voice sad.

"Passed over?" Harry asked, incredulous, "When have you ever been passed over before now? You got Prefect, you got selected over McLaggen, and I chose you over Malfoy on the train first year… But yeah, of course you've always get passed over." Ron looked at him for a moment.

"Well, if you put it that way," Ron said, his face brightening quite a bit, "I guess that I haven't done half bad for myself, have I?" Harry nodded, and so did Hermione and Ron's face split into a smile.

"Sorry, you know, for being such a git." Ron said awkwardly. Harry just shrugged and Hermione nodded.

"Yeah, yeah." Harry said, clapping Ron on the shoulder.

"I know how you can make it up, actually." Hermione said brightly. They both looked round at her.

"Well, Harry and I are quite hungry…" She left it hanging in the air, and Harry snorted, trying to hold back his laughter. Ron stared at Hermione, confused.

"Cook. For. Us." She explained slowly, and Ron stared at her like she was insane.

"Yeah, right. Cooking is for wo-" He stopped abruptly, seeing the dangerous look that flashed on Hermione's face.

"I'd love to." He said quickly, and he spun towards the cooking area. He stared at it uncertainly, and Harry had a sudden realization that Ron had probably never made himself a meal in his entire life.

"Ron, get some bread from the cupboard, find some cheese, and some ham or something, and the butter. Just make some sandwiches." Harry prompted, and Ron nodded.

"I'll make sandwiches!" He declared, as if he had thought of it himself. Harry shook his head, and cast an exasperated look at Hermione, who just shrugged, and sat back to enjoy the spectacle of Ron making lunch.

Several minutes later, there was a plate of sandwiches plopped down on the table by a very proud Ron. Harry and Hermione clapped appreciatively.

"Finally, I'm starving!" Harry said, and he grabbed one of the sandwiches, and took a huge bite, just as Mrs. Weasley walked into the kitchen. She looked at the plate of sandwiches, and at her kitchen counter, which was a complete mess.

"Who made those?" She asked, in an accusatory manner.

"Me!" Ron said brightly, and Mrs. Weasley looked as if she had been hit by a truck.

"You made food?" She said, and Ron nodded. She looked uncertainly at the plate again.

"Are you guys sure you wouldn't like me to whip something up?" She asked Harry and Hermione, who both shrugged.

"No, thank you, Mrs. Weasley. The sandwiches are fine." Hermione told her. Mrs. Weasley nodded, and got to work cleaning up the kitchen.

"Let's go upstairs." Harry suggested, and the other two nodded, and followed him out of the kitchen.

"Oh, Harry dear, Remus said that he would be stopping by today." Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen, after they were halfway up the stairs.

"Ok!" Harry replied as he trotted up the stairs.

"I guess he found more about the wandless magic stuff, right?" Ron asked, and Harry just shrugged. He still wasn't overly pleased with Ron, but he was willing to let his idiocy slid for the time being. However, if it persisted, Harry would deal with it a little more forcefully.

"Probably. I mean, it's definitely something that we want to understand fully. It's like knowing nonverbal magic. It can give us that split second advantage over a Death Eater. And we all know that a second can be a long time in a wizard's duel." Hermione stated, and Ron and Harry nodded their assent.

Indeed the three did know that even a moment's hesitation could cost one dearly in the life and death conflict of a wizard's duel. Hermione had paid dearly for her hesitation in the Department of Mysteries. She had silenced Dolohov, instead of stunning him, and she had been rewarded with a flaming slash across the chest.

"It would be wicked if we could learn all that stuff." He said, miming casting a spell with his hand, waving it about comically. Harry snorted at his antics, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"There is a lot more to it than that, Ronald." She said. She looked at Harry for support, and he shrugged.

"You probably know more about it than me." Harry answered her look. She shrugged.

"I'll check my books." She said as they reached the door to Ginny's room. She turned the knob, and they all trooped inside. Ron threw himself down on Ginny's bed, Harry on Hermione's, and Hermione dove straight into her trunk, pulling out half a dozen texts on defensive magic.

"None of our school texts will have anything." Ron said, counting the number. Hermione tossed him an incredulous look.

"These are just my reference books, for essays and stuff. I read them most of the way through, but I may have missed something." She told him, and Ron stared at her like she was insane.

"Here." She said, dropping them on her bed next to Harry, "You two split these up, and read through them. It'll be useful anyways, even if nothing is about wandless magic." They both sat there, looking between her, and the stack of books.

"Read!" she barked, and they both grabbed a book, and opened it. Harry was skimming quickly, using his usual tactics of key word searching, and Ron was gazing at a page, not really absorbing anything at all.

Harry skimmed through the first book, and found nothing of value, so he threw it down, and grabbed the next one. Hermione saw him, however, and stopped him.

"Harry, there is no way you read that thoroughly. Read it the whole way through, don't skim." She ordered, and, grumbling, Harry picked the book back up, and opened it to the first page. It was an introduction, so he skipped it. The first actual page was a description of how to perform a redirect charm. It was a different version of the shield charm that allowed the caster to redirect the spell that was being blocked.

Harry had only read the first twenty or so pages when Mrs. Weasley called up from down below.

"Harry! Remus is here to see you!" She shrieked, and Harry closed the book with a snap, and resolved to practice the redirect charm later with Ron and Hermione.

"Let's go!" He said excitedly. Hermione leapt up just as fast, but Ron didn't move.

"Ron!" He said, and his red headed friend didn't stir in the slightest. Harry rounded to the other side of the bed, so that he could see Ron's face, and he would see that his friend was fast asleep, apparently snoring loudly, but he had cast a silencing charm on his head.

"Leave him to sleep, if that's what he wants." Hermione said, eyeing their lazy friend disdainfully. Harry shrugged, and turned for the door. They left the room and trotted back downstairs.

When they entered the kitchen, they saw Lupin sitting at the table, with a mug of tea in one hand, and a pile of cookies on the table near his other hand.

"Hey, Harry, Hermione. Where's Ron?" He asked, and Harry pointed up, while Hermione mimed sleeping. Lupin smiled, and Harry slid into one of the seats at the table, and Hermione sat down next to him.

"Hey, Moony." Harry said. "I guess you found something out about this whole wandless magic thing?" He asked hopefully, and Lupin took a long sip from his tea before answering.

"Yes and no." He answered finally. Harry shifted in his seat, leaning forward, listening intently. He hated when people were cryptic.

"Well, do you remember what I explained to you already?" Lupin asked, and Harry and Hermione both nodded vigorously. He motioned with his hand for them to tell him, and Hermione immediately launched into an explanation.

"Well, you said that all witches and wizards can perform wandless magic, but most of them don't have the power or focus to cast effective spells. Also, it is much more wearing for a wizard to use magic without some sort of focusing object, like a wand, which is why it isn't widely used." She spat out, and Lupin nodded.

"That's right. Now, beyond that, there isn't much to know about the use of wandless magic. I did a bit of research into its calling. How to summon it." He added, noticing Harry's confused look.

"I think I figured it out." Harry said, and Lupin shot him a skeptical look.  
"Go ahead then." Lupin instructed him, and Harry obliged him.

"Well, you need to need the magic. The spell has got to dominate your thoughts, has to be important to the exclusion of all else. And I'm pretty sure strong emotions, like anger, can do it too." Harry said proudly, thinking about his attempts to cast the fireball spell during the cleanup after the battle a few days ago. Lupin smiled, and waggled his hand, tilting it side to side, palm down.

"Sort of." He responded, "But not entirely. You see, that is a way of summoning it. It is possible to will it into existence, purely by focus and emotion. But that is dangerous. If you use your anger to produce it, the results may be to powerful for you to control, and you could die.

"However, if the emotion you use it happiness, you will never be able to achieve high levels of destructive power. You would be able to cast lighter spells, like levitation and light spells, but destructive forces would be beyond your call." He explained. Harry nodded, thinking that he was following.

"So, emotions can do it, but are dangerous. What's the downside to focusing strongly?" Harry asked.

"Have you tried it that way?" He asked, and when Harry nodded, Lupin cracked a slight smile.

"I expected that you would try to make it happen on your own. Well, while you were doing it, what happened, and what was going on around you?" Lupin asked, and Harry had to think, remembering the clean up after the battle.

"It was quiet. No one was around me. I had to try a few times. It probably took me a few minutes to get the spell to work properly." He told the ex-professor. Lupin nodded; this was clearly the answer he had been expecting.

"Try again, Harry. Try to levitate this cookie." He instructed, placing the cookie on the table in front of Harry. Harry looked at Hermione, who was looking on eagerly and then back to Lupin, who was watching him expectantly.

Shrugging to himself, Harry raised his hand towards the cookies, and fell into himself, trying to find the concentration to call forth the magic. He was thinking he was getting there when-

"Harry!" Lupin said sharply. Harry snapped his eyes open, and his head up. He glared at Lupin.

"Try to levitate it Harry." Lupin instructed again, a smile playing on his lips. Harry shot him a look, and then returned to the cookie. He delved into his own mind again, and reached for the necessary concentration for the spell. He thought he had enough focus for the spell, when once again Lupin's voice darted through his concentration, shattering the focus he needed.

"What the hell!" Harry cried, coming out of his meditative trance again. Lupin was smiling, and Harry shot him possibly the dirtiest look he had ever shot a friend.

"How am I supposed to concentrate if you keep making noise?" Harry demanded, seething with anger, and Hermione gave a small 'Oh' beside him. He turned to regard her, and she looked excited.

"I think I get it!" She squealed excitedly, "You're trying to prove that Harry won't be able to hold his concentration long enough during a fight for him to cast a spell without his wand." Lupin nodded, smiling broadly.

"I knew you would figure it out." He told her, and she blushed. Harry shook his head at her embarrassment.

"Honestly, you figure everything out." He told her, and she shot him an annoyed glance.

"Oh shut it." She scolded, and Harry grinned, pleased that he could so easily get under her skin. Lupin cleared his throat loudly, and they both snapped their heads round to look at him.

"Sorry." They both mumbled, looking down at the table, looking for all the world like two children caught stealing cookies.

"No matter." He told them, "That's exactly what I was getting at Hermione. Harry, if you need so much time to concentrate, then it will be almost impossible for you to enact a spell while there are screams, spell calls, yelling, flashes of light, and you having to dodge spells?"

"With difficulty." Harry responded cheekily. Lupin cracked another smile at that.

"Just as bloody cheeky as your father. I expected an answer like that, you know. I've spent too much time around Potters to expect any differently." He told Harry, who just shrugged and laughed at the werewolf.

"Well, anyways," he continued, "My potion is that pure concentration is good enough to bring forth the power, but unless you are extremely good at ignoring the world around you, it won't make a difference. You'll be killed before you can cast even a single wandless spell." Harry nodded his understanding, swallowing subconsciously when Lupin said 'you will die'.

"So how am I going to cast my wandless spells, then?" Harry asked. He was really lost now. He didn't see anyway to cast them beyond focus and emotion.

"It's more a case over visualization and determination. You have to… to… to _see_ the spell, to _know_ that it is going to work." Lupin tried to explain, but he received only blank looks from Harry and Hermione.

"Have you ever done something because you _knew _you could do it? Harry, have you ever done a daring quidditch move because you did it before, and you knew it would work again? It's the same idea. You have to know that the spell is going to work. Any uncertainty will wreak havoc with your attempt." He elaborated, and Harry thought he understood.

"Back in third year, when me and Hermione used the time turner to go back and save Sirius, I cast a Patronus Charm that drove away over a hundred Dementors. I knew I could do it because I had already done it. Is that what you mean?" Harry asked, and Lupin nodded excitedly.

"That's exactly it, Harry!" He exclaimed. Hermione however seemed skeptical.

"But, sir, Harry's case isn't the same as what you are asking us to do. He had already seen what he was going to do, had done, was doing." She trailed off, thinking about the implications of time travel. "Anyways, he had already known he was going to do it, so it doesn't work the same way as thinking you are going to be able to do it."

Lupin smiled at her, and Harry had a good idea of what the professor was thinking, for he was thinking it to. Hermione's straight forward practical way of thinking didn't apply in this matter of gut instinct and sheer willpower. She had to know it was correct, rather than just conjecture to believe anything.

"Hermione, that's a good point. Can you levitate the cookie with your wand?" He asked, and she gave him a sharp look.

"Of course." She growled, clearly not seeing the point in this exercise. She flicked her wand, and the cookie flew up of the table, and did a few flips for good measure. She settled it back down, and fixed Lupin with a look that clearly said she thought he was going nowhere.

"Why could you levitate that cookie?" Lupin asked, and Hermione rolled her eyes before giving her answer.

"Because I properly intoned the spell, and used the correct wand movement." She intoned in a flat voice, and Lupin nodded, and then shook his head.

"Yes and no." He answered, and she shot him an incredulous look. "Those are components used in spell casting, but they aren't _why_ the spell was cast. If those were needed, non-verbal and wandless magic would not be able to exist. No, it is _confidence_ that allowed you to bring forth the magic." He broke off, and they both absorbed the information.

"Try to think of magic as a river of fire." He began again, "The flames look like they can burn you, and you are afraid of them. Using magic is having the confidence to plunge your hand into the fires, and pull out a handful of the stuff. You can cast the spell because you _know _you can cast it, because you have done it before."

"That can't be all right. How do we learn them the first time round then? We didn't know that we could then!" She countered, and Lupin nodded.

"That's true, but as you get more confidence that you are perfecting the incantation, and the wand movements, you confidence in reaching for the magic grows as well, until you pull it for and manipulate it like you want to. But shatter that confidence, and you will hesitate before plunging into the river, and pulling forth the magic. In magic, confidence is everything." He told them, and Harry had to say that he agreed with Lupin's statement, but Hermione was still stubborn, this illogical, irrational belief beyond her ordered comprehension.

"But I have always been able to cast all the spells I tried, even when I first started school. I was getting them right on the train, and I was nervous as hell." She told them, and Harry snorted, holding back his laughter. He had hardly found the bossy eleven year old Hermione 'nervous'. Thankfully, she didn't notice his laughter.

"You read all the spell books through, and knew how to perform the wand movements and pronounce the spells, right?" She nodded. "You knew that you knew how to use the spells, so you could do them. It's the confidence in the spell that matters. Confidence in yourself is helpful, but not essential. Some magic may not function properly if you are depressed."

"So that is why Tonks was having so much trouble with her metamorphmagus abilities last year?" Harry asked excitedly, and Lupin nodded.

"Now, however, her depression is gone, and her powers are functioning fully." He said proudly, for both of the teenagers knew it was the werewolf's 'ministrations' that had taken care of her surly mood.

"Ok, so basically, if we think it will work, it will work?" Hermione asked, dragging the conversation away from Moony's personal life, and back onto the topic at hand.

"Almost. You have to _know_ that the spell is going to work; you have to be completely confident in your ability to call forth the magic to do your bidding. Hermione, on the train, you had complete confidence they would work because you knew the wand movements and chants perfectly, and you thought that theoretical knowledge meant you could perform practically." Lupin explained, and both Harry and Hermione understood now.

"Now, Harry, levitate the cookie. Remember everything I have told you about wandless magic. Good luck." Lupin said, and Harry nodded, before turning his gaze on the cookie. Harry focused on the cookie, concentrating on it, hating it, telling himself he could levitate the cookie.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" He cried, pointing his hand at the cookie. It wobbled slightly, almost coming off the table, but then it just sat there motionless. Harry felt drained from the effort.

"Damn it!" He cursed under his breath, raising his hand for a second attempt. He barked the spell again, this time his anger fueling the spell along with his determination, and the cookie lifted clear of the table for almost a full second before falling back onto the wooden surface. Harry leaned back against his chair, panting, exhausted from the exertion.

"This is impossible!" Harry said between breaths. Lupin gave a non committal shrug, and turned to Hermione.

"Try?" He asked, and she nodded apprehensively. She raised her hand towards the cookie, and took a deep breath.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" She said shakily, and the cookie remained lifeless on the table. However, the magical effort that Hermione had undertaken was still great, and she fell forward, resting her head in her hands.

"You didn't have anywhere near enough confidence, Hermione. You need to be sure of yourself." Lupin scolded gently.

"It's not that easy!" She growled, her frustration at failing so completely evident in her voice. She raised her head from her hands, and pointed one of her now empty hands at the cookie again. Harry looked at her worriedly.

"Hermione, maybe you should wait." He suggested, and she shot him a look.

"No, I can do this!" She barked, and he nodded his head, and held up his hands defensively.

"Just a suggestion." He replied cautiously. She narrowed her eyes and sneered at him briefly before turning away.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" She uttered, this time her voice brimming with anger and resolve. The cookie jumped free of the table and hovered there for two or three seconds before it tumbled back to the table, breaking apart slightly as it hit the hard wood surface.

"There!" She said triumphantly, turning on Harry with a grin on her face. He smiled back at her, amazed that she had produced a better result than he had. After all, he had already managed to produce three complete wandless magic spells.

"Good work, Hermione. That is what anger can do for your spells. Look how much more effective it was! However, since your anger wasn't really, really strong, the power didn't consume you. You must understand the danger of putting your emotions into this type of magic. It's wild, and unpredictable." He warned. Neither Harry nor Hermione reacted to his grave words, as they were both sitting back tiredly in their chairs.

"Well, I think that that is enough for today." Lupin said, eyeing the tired out teenagers in front of him. Harry and Hermione mumbled some agreements, and they said their goodbyes.

Lupin had just left the room when Harry remembered that he had one more question to ask the ex-professor.

"Remus!" He cried leaping from his chair, and heading for the door of the kitchen, hoping the man hadn't apparated or flooed out yet. He breathed a sigh of relief when he shot out of the door and saw the werewolf turning about curiously.

"Yes?" He inquired politely. Harry motioned for him to return to the kitchen. As he stepped through the doorway, Hermione raised her eyebrow at him.

"What was that about?" She asked, and Harry held up a hand, telling her to wait a moment. Harry moved over and sat down in the chair beside her just as Lupin came back into the room.

"What do you need, Harry?" Lupin asked patiently.

"I was wondering if you had found out anything about the magic that caused me to get covered in flames." Harry told him, and Lupin sighed heavily, and took his seat again.

"That was the 'no' in 'yes and no'" He answered, and Harry slouched down in his chair. That was the magic he was most curious about.

"So you found out nothing?" Harry asked desperately, and Lupin shook his head.

"Not _nothing_, but very little. It was a form of wandless magic, but that much was obvious. It stems as well from your emotions, so it is again, very dangerous for you to use. From what I gathered, it isn't a very controlled magic. When you give into it, you loose control of yourself, and everything is controlled by the loose flow of magic." Lupin explained.

"That is as far as I got with my research. I haven't had a chance to read through Dumbledore's library yet, but I will as soon as I get the chance." He told them, a pained look flashing across his face as he mentioned Dumbledore. Harry remembered keenly the werewolf's reaction upon hearing the news of the headmaster's death those very few weeks ago in the Hospital Wing.

"Thank you, Remus." Harry said with a smile, and the werewolf nodded, rising from the table, looking a little distracted.

"Yes, thank you. I really must be going now." He said, and he left the room immediately. A few seconds later, they heard the _whooshing _of the flames, and knew that the werewolf was gone.

"Poor Remus. Dumbledore's death hit him very hard, didn't it?" Hermione asked sympathetically, and Harry just nodded. He had never seen the werewolf loose control like he had on that night, and he had indeed felt as though he was intruding on something private. He knew that Dumbledore had made a huge impact on the socially outcast werewolf.

"Come on, let's go wake up Ron." Harry said, rising from his chair. He stretched his arms and back, shaking the weariness from his limbs. He was still shocked by how much strain the wandless magic put on him.

"This should be fun." She said with a grin as she too stretched out, arching her back in the same cat like manner she had up in Ginny's room, and Harry found himself staring once again. This time however, Hermione caught him.

"My eyes are up here, Harry." She chided jokingly. Harry quickly looked up, and he flushed with embarrassment. He quickly mumbled an apology and looked away. Hermione just grinned widely at Harry's silent praise for her body.

"Come on." She said, grabbing him by the elbow, and dragging him up the stairs. They moved as quietly as they could, and Hermione cast a silencing charm around Ginny's door so that they could ease it open without it creaking. As soon as they stepped inside, she cast a silencing charm on the room as well.

She looked at the sleeping Ron for a moment, and then turned back to Harry, and pointed to the far side of the bed. Harry decided that she had this under control, so he followed her instructions without any questions.

When he was set up on the opposite side of the bed, she summoned the table side lamp to her, its trailing cord missing Ron's face by and inch. She winced, and checked if it had hit him. Satisfied that he hadn't woken up, she quickly transfigured the lamp into a bucket, and then she proceeded to fill the bucket. Already seeing where this was going, Harry pulled the covers off sleeping teen, and smiled as Hermione levitated the bucket above his body.

Ron awoke spluttering and cursing as the icy cold water fell onto his body, and turned to ice as Harry chilled the already cold liquid. Ron stopped struggling a second later.

"Haven't either of you ever heard of shaking someone awake?" He demanded, glaring at the pair of them. Harry shrugged, and Hermione nodded.

"So why the bloody hell don't you just shake me awake then?" He growled.

"It's nowhere near as much fun to do that." Harry responded cheekily, and he raised his wand and vanished the block of ice that encased the red head. Ron raised his own wand and sent a blast of warm air over himself, drying out his clothes.

"So how did the research go?" He asked. Harry and Hermione both gave him hard looks. Ron had slept when he was supposed to be reading, and neither of them was too happy that he was slacking off.

"It didn't. Shortly after you decided that it was nap time, Lupin showed up, and e wanted to talk to us." Hermione told him.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" He asked, indignant. Hermione and Harry laughed at that.

"We tried, but you just rolled over and went back to sleep." Harry said.

"Or rather, you didn't take any notice of our attempts." Hermione added. Truthfully, neither of them had made much of an effort.

"Don't worry Ron, most of the discussion would have bored you anyway." Hermione said kindly a moment later, as Ron looked dumfounded between the two of them.

"Oh. Alright then. What did you guys talk about?" Ron asked, placated.

"He wanted to talk to us about the research he had done on wandless magic. He also wanted to give us a bit of practice with it. Harry and I both managed to levitate a cookie without our wands." Hermione said proudly, beaming wide at her accomplishment.

"Why would I have not found that interesting?" Ron asked, angry again. He had talked many times about how he thought that wandless magic would be 'bloody brilliant'.

"You wouldn't have understood the stuff we were talking about. It was very theoretical." Hermione told him. Ron's eyes bulged, and his ears turned red, a sure sign that he was getting angry.

"Are you calling me stupid?" He demanded, his voice holding a dangerous edge. Harry decided that he had to leap in to divert the impending disaster.

"No, Ron, it's not that. It's just that it was really abstract stuff. I had no clue what the two of them were talking about. I got lost so many times." He lied, heading off his explosive friend's temper.

"I still wish you guys had woken me up." Ron pouted.

"You probably enjoyed sleeping a whole lot more. Now, we have some research to do. And no sleeping this time!" Hermione warned, as she grabbed up one of the books that she had been looking at before Lupin's arrival, and led down on her bed. Ron stared at her.

"Aren't you going to tell me what he told you guys?" He asked her. She sighed, and closed the book.

"Alright. It might take a minute though. Basically, he explained that the use of wandless magic relies upon the self confidence of the wielder, although it can also be produced due to direct concentration, and the use of strong emotions.

"Furthermore, the usage of this type of magic via your emotions is extremely dangerous, as powerful emotions such as anger can empower the magic so that it is beyond your control. Concentration takes too long to be of use in any combat situation, although if you are in a quiet space, you will be able to do it.

"On top of that, the use of wandless magic relies on the confidence of the user. If the user is even slightly unsure of himself, the spell will be accordingly weakened. Aside from that, it takes a great deal of magically energy to use the spells." She explained, and Ron nodded, apparently following her simplified version of the workings of wandless magic.

"Ok, so if you think it will work it will work?" Ron asked, and Harry nodded, but Hermione shook her head.

"It has to be more than _thinking_ you can do it, you have to be completely and utterly certain that the magic will answer your call." Hermione said, and Ron nodded again.

"Ok. So it's just having guts then." He said, and Hermione began to shake her head, and interject, but he cut her off.

"I know, I understand." He told her, and she fell silent.

"Alright then, time to research!" She said brightly, and Ron snorted.

"If Lupin already explained it all to you, why do we need to keep reading about it?" He asked.

"Because the stuff you read about might come in handy." She replied distantly, already reading her book.

"But-" He began, but he shut up at the glower that Hermione turned his way. He grabbed a book, and flopped back down on Ginny's bed. Harry looked around, and realized that Hermione had stolen his spot.

"Excuse me, Hermione? I believe that was where I was sitting." He accused jokingly. She gave him an incredulous and angry look.

"Are you calling me fat? Because there is plenty of room on this bed for two people unless you think that I am fat!" She said, her voice full of mock anger.

"Then move your fat ass over." Harry answered jokingly, and he led down on the bed beside her, their legs touching, and arms brushing each others.

**A/N: I'm so sorry that this chapter took so long, but it is getting into crunch time at school, and life has been a bit hectic of late. And for the past month I have really been writing in little thirty word snippets before I lost interest in writing for a while. I'm not stopping the story, and occasionally, like today, I get inspired to write, and I lay down 3000 words. **

**As well, I was trying to figure out how I was going to explain the wandless magic to make it believably hard. Some feedback on how I did would be nice. Also, I want some opinions on using OC's in the story. **

**Please Review!**

**Dave**


	11. Chapter 10: New Weapons

**A/N: Hey to all of my readers, both on Fanfiction and on Portkey, where I have recently began posting my fic. **

**Ok. If you are reading this on Portkey, go back to the last chapter. I was checking it over on Valentine's Day, and I realized that I had given you an incomplete version… so there is a version with another two thousand or so word…**

**Some of my Portkey readers have been complaining about typos. The truth is, if you understand the way I write my fic, you'll understand a bit better. The majority of the time, my writing is done in short snippet, usually in times like between getting out of bed, and hitting the shower, and then hitting the shower to school, In fact, I'm writing this author's note in my gap between finishing studying for my calculus exam, and going to bed. This still doesn't make the errors acceptable, but I hope you will all have a bit more sympathy.**

**Ok, now onto my newest, and hopefully acceptable, chapter. I realized (thanks to a review from Nurray) that I never really mentioned what happened in the aftermath of the Battle of the Burrow. Hehe… I hope to rectify that error here and now.**

**By the way, this is where my story takes a little bit of a walk from the normality of the HP universe. Let's Go!**

**Chapter Ten: New Weapons**

Harry spun to his right, covering his head with his arms to avert the hail of splinters and woodchips the covered him. The noise of the blast rang loudly in his ears. He stopped his spin, coming around with his wand level, and snapped off a quick binding curse.

"Got to be faster then that, Potter!" Lupin shouted as his defensive shield got wrapped by the thick cords, which promptly fell away, pooling on the ground. The werewolf raised his wand, and snapped off another hex, which Harry blocked.

This was how it had gone for the past week. The seemingly untiring werewolf had arrived every day for the last seven days since his first visit, and he had worked with them to improve their wandless magic.

Harry had indeed improved. They were still working with the simple exercise of levitating the cookie, and Harry could keep it airborne almost indefinitely. Hermione could as well, and Ron could keep it up for almost a minute. They were even capable of working through Lupin's mild distractions.

And then, after they had their wandless magic training, the merciless ex-professor dragged them into the forest that surrounded the Weasley's quidditch field.

That was where they were now, Harry spinning and dodging as Lupin pressed him hard. He had never yet managed to defeat the man, or anything even close. Harry understood fully why the lycanthrope was emerging as the leader of the post-Dumbledore Order.

As he dodged another spell, he heard Ron and Hermione laughing from their places among the trees.

"I didn't see you guys doing any better!" He roared at them, and the laughter stopped immediately. Indeed the werewolf took turns with the three of them, once even letting them come at him three on one. His spellwork had been incredible. Still, none of them had ever managed to stun or bind the werewolf, at least not permenantly.

"I at least bound him!" Hermione shouted back from the trees, her voice still holding an edge of mirth. The brunette witch was indeed faring the best in their daily trials against the older wizard. She had managed to hit him with a binding curse, but the werewolf had dismissed the ropes with wandless magic, showing them the usefulness of such a skill.

Harry skidded to a stop, launching two stunners in quick succession at the werewolf, and then he found himself leaping away again, as Lupin redirected both of the spells right at the younger wizard. Harry then was forced to dive flat as thick ropes appeared in mid air before him.

Harry scrambled back to his feet, just in time to take a stunner cleanly in the chest. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"Hermione, if you wouldn't mind reviving him?" The professor asked. He leaned against a tree, and grinned as he watched the other two teens emerge from the trees. He had fought the two if them first, and each sported their own small injuries and marks. The entire right side of Ron's shirt was covered in small nicks and tears, and Hermione's hair was filled with pieces of grass and wood splinters.

"Renervate!" She whispered, and Harry groaned as he sat up.

"Damn! He got me again." Harry grumbled. It was the seventh time that the werewolf had stunned him. Every time that it happened, Harry felt like he had just been hit in the head by a bludger.

"You have to move quicker Harry. And I don't mean physically. Your spellwork is incredibly slow." Lupin told him.

"I fared fine in the Department of Mysteries, you know." Harry replied. Lupin shrugged.

"Against his Death Eaters. Not against _Him_, Harry. Anything that they can do, he can do better. Believe me. I think you witnessed him and Dumbledore dueling in the Atrium?" Harry nodded, "Well then, you have some idea of his magical skill. And besides, most of his Death Eaters were still weakened at that point. Prolonged exposure to the dementors of Azkaban takes many months to get over."

Harry nearly shuddered at that. He had been hard pressed at the time to deal with Death Eaters, and sheer luck had saved them on many occasions.

"So, what? We just keep training? Hope that eventually, we will be as skilled as them?" Hermione asked, the frustration evident in her voice, and Lupin shrugged again.

"What other choice is there? You either learn to survive them, or you will die next to the hundreds that have already fallen." Lupin said coldly. He looked around at the faces of the trio, each of them looking determined, but that determination was undercut by fear and apprehension.

"Come!" Lupin said, breaking the moment of silence, "The three of you against me." With that, he turned and sprinted to the trees, disappearing among the foliage. Harry looked at the other two, and they rose as one. They took up a defensive position, with Harry and Ron standing in front of Hermione. She rolled her eyes, and tried to shove her way through.

"No!" Harry ordered, "You are the best caster, so we will manage the shield charms, and you fight back." Hermione thought about it, and then nodded.

"Fine. But if you get a chance strike back." She whispered. Harry nodded, and he and Ron shared a look, that Hermione caught. She smacked the pair of them in the head, and they stopped immediately.

They advanced slowly, and Hermione fired a cursory stunner into the trees. The spell sailed harmlessly until it hit a tree trunk. Harry and Ron looked at each other, and they both fired off stunners as well. These also went sailing harmlessly through the trees.

"We shouldn't go to him. He'll be expecting us to act rashly. Move back against a tree." Harry advised his voice barely above a whisper. The other two nodded, and began to work their way backwards toward the nearest thick tree trunk with small measured steps.

"Do you see--" Ron began, but he was cut off as a spell of silence covered the area. Harry waved his wand, and the sounds returned; the rustling of the leaves and bushed. Seconds later, the sound was killed again, and Harry grumbled and waved his wand to dispel it, but at that exact moment, a stunner shot free of the trees, headed straight for Harry. Harry stopped casting, and went for a block, but Ron had already thrown up a shield, and Hermione had sent a string of stunners back toward the area where the werewolf's spell had originated.

Harry waved his wand, dismissing the magical silence again, and looked around.

"Do either of you see anything?" He asked, and Hermione shook her head, and Ron began to answer, but the silence dropped over them again. Harry realized that Lupin didn't want them discussing anything, so he stopped trying to dispel the magical silence.

Harry motioned for them to spread out a bit, and they all backed up against the tree trunk, shoulder to shoulder. He kept scanning the bushes in front of them, hoping for some sign of the werewolf.

Suddenly, Ron toppled to the ground, struck by a stunner. Harry looked around, and then realized that the ex-professor had scaled the tree they were against, and stunned Ron from behind. Harry grabbed Hermione by the arm, and pulled her close to him, throwing up a shield over the pair of them. Lupin's next attack bounced off the nearly flawless guard.

Hermione and Harry both whirled about as one, launching a pair of stunners into the foliage above where they had been standing. The werewolf leapt from the branched, running down to the ground _on the air!_ Harry and Hermione watch, stunned, as the ex-professor touched down lightly, and were nearly caught off guard by the next stunner. Thankfully, Hermione had the reflexes to throw up a wide shield to block the attack.

They were sticking together, Harry holding the shield up against the werewolf's attacks, and Hermione was fighting back, but Lupin was able to cast, block, and dodge fast enough to keep up with the two teenage casters.

Harry wished that they could go and revive Ron, but even if they weren't stuck in place by Lupin's fierce barrage, the rules of their games forbade reviving a teammate. So, Harry and Hermione held out in their war of attrition, and the werewolf was beginning to slow a little bit now, dodging less, and blocking more. The incoming spells against Harry and Hermione were beginning to thin, to a point where Harry thought he could shoot off a spell.

He timed it a second after Hermione's spell, hoping that the bright light of her stunner would cover his and that the werewolf would drop his shield to counter after Hermione's hit.

But as soon as Harry dropped his shield to fire, Lupin dove to the side, hitting the ground hard, but being rewarded for the effort. His stunner struck Hermione in the chest, and Harry cursed himself for letting the guard down.

_I'm going to get an earful for that when she wakes up._ Harry thought, wincing slightly. Her rages were never pretty, not even the smallest ones.

With the ex-professor lying on the ground, Harry thought he had the advantage. He leapt forward, pressing the attack. Lupin's shield glowed brightly under the continuing impact of Harry's spells.

But suddenly, the older man forced his feet under him, and leapt up with single spring. Harry tried to follow him for an attack, but he found himself throwing up another shield.

Harry charged forward under his last block, catching the werewolf around the legs as he dove low under the flash from his shield block. They fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Harry pinned Lupin's arms, and they squirmed about as they tried to gain supremacy. Suddenly, Harry was airborne, feeling an intense pressure on his chest. It dimmed a second later, and he crumpled to the ground, his wand several feet away.

He saw Lupin rising up unsteadily, and he scrambled for his wand. It flew away with a little puff of dirt as his fingers scraped it. Harry knew he was defeated, and threw up his hands.

"I yield!" he said loudly, and Lupin nodded. Harry stumbled to his feet, and for the first time, Harry saw that the man was tired. Lupin summoned Harry's wand back, and tossed it to him. He motioned to the other two.

"Revive them." He instructed. Harry did so wordlessly. He knew that Lupin would 'debrief' them once they were all awake.

"You look tired, Remus." Harry said as the other two were shaking off the debilitating effects of the stunners.

"Four fights in a day and one a three on one. Add that to two wandless spells, one pretty damned powerful, and you're in for a full day of effort." Lupin said, smiling somewhat. Suddenly, the mystery of flying through the air was solved.

"You threw me back wandlessly?" Harry asked, stunned. Harry thought levitating a cookie was hard, but Lupin had levitated him _and_ thrown him!

"Yes. I compressed the air and forced it back. It's easier to manipulate something light like air then a person. It conserves your energy." He replied. Harry nodded. He understood, sort of.

"So it's would be easier for me to put a bubble of air under the cookie rather than levitate it?" He asked, and Lupin gave a half-shrug, half-nod. Meanwhile, Hermione and Ron had climbed back to their feet, and where brushing themselves down.

"Thanks a lot, Harry. If you're holding the shield, hold the damn shield!" Hermione growled at him. Harry just laughed at her.

"Maybe you should learn to cast your own shield." He told her, and he dodged a swat aimed at his head.

"Not bad, you guys. This time you at least challenged me." Lupin said, and Harry frowned at the slightly condescending statement. He wasn't frowning at the way it was said, or even at the content, but at the sad truth of it. Harry, Hermione and Ron were all powerful wizards for their age, but they were still nothing against a fully trained and battle tested wizard.

"Still kicked our ass though, didn't you?" Ron grumbled. Clearly, he was as irritated by Harry at loosing once again. A quick glance at Hermione told him that she wasn't any happier.

"You were more of a challenge today then you have been before. You are all learning. Did any of you realize something from our fights today?" He asked that question at the end of each session. They all remained silent for a moment as they mulled over the day's training.

"We last longer as a team." Ron offered, and Lupin grinned, and nodded.

"Precisely what I wanted you all to gather from today's training. You need to work together. When combating a superior foe, it is best to work as a unit rather than as three individuals. Three individuals can be split and destroyed, but a unit must be challenged as a whole." Lupin informed them, and the three of them nodded along.

"I learned that a lot of magic use can tire you out. From you." Harry said to Lupin.

"That's true. Extensive use of your magic will take an extreme toll on your body. Have any of you noticed that you are a little more tired each day when you wake up?" He asked.

"I have. I just thought it was the training everyday." Hermione answered.

"That's a part of it, but a more substantial reason is the fact that each day you are drawing upon a lot of your energy for casting spells and using magic. We as wizards take our powers for granted, and few ever realize that it takes a toll on us. We rarely use enough power on a regular basis to tire ourselves out."

"So, what are you saying… this training is going to _weaken_ us? Why the hell are we doing it then?" Harry asked. Lupin shook his head fervently.

"It doesn't weaken you. It will just make you a little more tired in the short run. If you continually access large amounts of magic for a long period of time, magic will be much harder to reach for each time you try to use it." Lupin said. He looked at each of them, and then yawned.

"I'm going to go. I'm exhausted." He said, and after a few quick goodbyes, he strode off through the forest away form the house. Harry knew that there had been anti-apparation wards set up around the Burrow, in lieu of the Inferi attack.

After the werewolf took his leave, the three of them began to trudge back towards the Burrow. There was a slightly sullen mood about the recently defeated group. They were always a bit surly after they left their training sessions with Lupin.

"Aren't Bill and Fleur due back later today?" Hermione asked, breaking the fragile silence that lingered over them.

"Yeah. They are taking the floo from the Jamaican ministry this evening." Ron replied. In the aftermath of the battle during their wedding, Bill and Fleur had followed through with their honeymoon plans. It had been, in its own way, an act of defiance. They had continued on with their life as it had been planned, not letting Voldemort affect them.

Mrs. Weasley had been furious, when, after all the initial commotion had died down, she realized that the Daily Prophet hadn't run a story on the attack. It seemed as if the Ministry had leaned on the paper not to run the story, so as to keep the public calm.

Also, the Ministry wanted to keep quiet its late arrival to the fight. The Death Eaters had launched a feigned attack on a Muggle community, and that had drawn away most of the Aurors and the Magical Law Enforcement squad. By the time they had arrived to combat the Death Eaters, many Muggles were already dead. The obliviators were having one hell of a time trying to erase the memories of everyone present during the attacks.

According to the Daily Prophet, Muggle news outlets were calling the attack a terrorist attack. Apparently, there had been several such attacks worldwide by dark wizards and Death Eaters rallying to Voldemort's banners.

The wizarding paper had published an article stating that the political tensions in the Muggle world were rising, and were at a high for recent years. None of them knew who was responsible, and there were shockingly no witnesses left to the attacks. The wizarding world governments had been working on overtime, removing traces of their existence.

The Muggles were now all pointing fingers at each other for the attacks, and the chances of war breaking out somewhere were seeming greater everyday. However, as they didn't know who was responsible, no one was sure where to point their guns.

"Good thing they are coming home too. I don't think I could bear another day of mum's constant worrying. 'What if they are attacked?' 'What if they get hurt?' 'What if they are having sex?' Serious, the woman is driving me mad." Ron expounded.

"Yes, Ron, and the massive feast your mum is likely to cook up because they are coming home has nothing to do with your happiness." Harry chirped.

"And seeing Fleur again has nothing to do with it either." Hermione chipped in, and pretended to swoon. Harry laughed, and Ron did his best to look indignant while hiding the blush that was rising in his cheeks.

Harry and Hermione laughed at him all the way back to the burrow, poking fun of the red-head's (understandable) infatuation with the beautiful part-veela girl. Ron said nothing, just blushing deep crimson the whole time.

"Boys! Hermione! Get in here and give me hand please!" Mrs. Weasley shouted as soon as the door creaked open. Just as Harry had foreseen, Mrs. Weasley was busy working in the kitchen, preparing a welcome home dinner.

"Boys, I want you to set up a table in the back yard, just by the door, and Hermione, I want you to make a banner that says 'Welcome Home Bill and Fleur!' Make it special." She implored, and Hermione nodded. She grabbed a potato peeling, and transfigured it into a banner sized piece of paper, which she promptly levitated through the door to the living room. Harry and Ron stood there for a second, and watched her leave.

"Go!" Mrs. Weasley barked, breaking the two from their reverie. They darted out the door.

"And no magic!" she shouted after them, "Your not seventeen yet, Harry." Harry knew that she was just being prickly. It was July thirtieth, and he was turning seventeen tomorrow. Mrs. Weasley wasn't letting Ron use magic to be fair to Harry. Even so, the moment the two crossed the doorway, they both pulled their wands from the pockets.

In a moment, they had summoned and set up a pair of long tables, and Harry had transfigured a rock into table cloth. They threw some chairs around the tables, and were done in a matter of a minute or two. Knowing that Mrs. Weasley would have expected them to take much longer, Harry and Ron were dog fighting with a pair of rocks.

When Harry's rock got bashed out of the air by Ron's, they both called it quits, and went back inside.

"Mum, we're done!" Ron shouted through to her, turning for the stairs.

"No, you aren't!" She replied, and Ron sighed in disgust, and turned for the kitchen. Harry just rolled his eyes before trudging after his best friend.

Several hours later, Bill and Fleur stepped out of the fire grate. The Weasley family, Harry and Hermione all cheered for them once they stepped out. Bill had tanned a deep bronze colour, but Fleur had somehow remained creamy white.

"Welcome home!" Mrs. Weasley cried happily, and she absorbed them both in a deep hug. After that, they filtered out to the table, Bill with his arm tight about Fleur's waist.

Dinner was huge. Harry had only ever been so stuffed during Hogwarts' famous feasts. His stomach boiled with anger as he thought of the school. He was furious that he was being forced to go back. Still, he found the thought of something so routine, so normal in his future calming and reassuring.

After dinner, the Weasley's toasted the couple, and Harry and Ron both drank deeply of the mulled mead that Madam Rosmerta had given to Bill and Fleur for their wedding. The couple had been kind enough to share the three barrels, as Fleur found it too heavy, and Bill said it was more fun to drink with friends.

A dozen toasts later, and Harry was beginning to feel his head spin. It was the first time that he had ever had anything heavier than a butterbeer in large quantities.

"I'm going to bed." Mrs. Weasley announced after the final toast was downed. "You should all go too!" She said, eyeing them sternly.

"Let them stay up Molly. They are all practically adults." Mr. Weasley said, overriding her. Fred and George cheered their dad, and all the guys downed a round of mead in his honor.

Once the adults had departed, Fred, or George, Harry wasn't sure, produced a bottle of firewhiskey. He poured out shots for each of them.

"I don't think we should. I mean isn't this stuff really strong?" Hermione protested, but she was drowned out by a chorus of boos and hoots, and someone launched a handful of peas at her.

"Don't be a spoil sport, Hermione!" Ron chided. He had always had a desire to sample firewhiskey.

With a bit of chiding, Hermione grabbed up her shot, and looked around at everyone else.

"One, two, three!" Fred shouted, and everyone knocked back their glasses. Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Ron, all of whom were new to the burning beverage, hacked a spluttered. The others at the table roared with laugher. By the time they were recovered, the foursome found that their glasses had been refilled. As Fred began to count again, they all grabbed up their glasses.

Just as his head was beginning to droop towards the table, Charlie appeared at his shoulder. It was only the guys left awake, as Hermione and Ginny had both long since crept upstairs to their bed. Harry, still soberish at that point, had thought it a good idea when Hermione had started trying to give him a lap dance. He thought it was a good idea for him too, because Ron was shooting him murderous looks the whole time.

"Alright, Hero, looks like you are a little drunk. Oi, Fred, George! Help me get Harry and Ron here up to their beds." He shouted. The mischievous twins appeared instantly.

"Aww, is Ickle Ronniekins a little drunk?" One of them teased, pinching his cheek and flapping it around. Ron aimed a drunken swing at him, but stumbled past and fell flat to his face, and they all roared with laughter. Ron just lay on the floor. Charlie and Fred hoisted him up by the armpits, and George threw his arm around Harry's shoulders.

"You should thank us for tonight, Harry. But whatever you do, don't thank us for tomorrow." He said amicably. Harry gave him a strange look. At this point, he was much too drunk to really understand the twin's reference to the impending hangover.

It was several minutes before the older boys got Ron and Harry up to Ron's bedroom, and the whole time, Harry was only vaguely aware that someone had laid a silencing charm on the stairwell.

By the time George dumped him on his bed, Ron was already fast asleep, and had been since the final landing. Fred shook his head as he and Charlie dumped the drunken teen in an unceremonious heap on top of his covers. The last thing Harry saw before drifting off to sleep was Ron roll off his bed onto the floor, and emit a loud snore.

Harry woke up to the sunlight of an early sunrise splashing across his bed. He winced when he opened his eyes. His head was pounding, and he couldn't quite remember how exactly he had gotten from the dinner to his bed.

Groaning loudly, he tried to stand, but when he did, his head started spinning, and he toppled back into a sitting position on his bed. He looked over at Ron, and saw him sprawled on the floor, snoring uproariously.

Deciding that he would feel better once he had something eat, Harry struggled to his feet again, and made his way to the door through the waves of pounding headache and nausea.

He walked down the stairs clinging to the banister, and taking each step very slowly. By the time he reached the bottom, his head was spinning and pounding so fast, he thought that he was going to pass out.

He shuffled slowly into the kitchen, and immediately squinted against the bright light that set his head pounding even harder. A series of hoots and clapping broke out, and Harry looked at the table, and saw that both of the twins were laughing at him. He shot them the rudest hand gesture he could think of.

Sliding into a seat at the wooden table, a grumpy looking Mrs. Weasley set a mug of steaming drink in front of him.

"Drink it. All of it." She snapped, sounding none too pleased. Harry picked up the mug, and took a sip. It was scalding hot and it tasted foul. He coughed and spluttered, and he put the mug back down.

"Drink it!" He told him, more forcefully.

"It's easier to down it in one go, mate." Fred counseled, nodding sagely. Harry shot him another dirty look, but he grabbed the mug. Taking a deep breath to brace himself, he lifted the cup to his lips, and he swallowed it all as fast as he could.

He coughed and gagged on the foul taste, but as soon as he recovered, he noticed that his sensitivity to light was receding, and that the pounding in his head was dulling.

"Thank you. What was that stuff?" He asked after a moment, during which time his head had almost completely cleared.

"Hang-over Draught. It'll clear up any hang over almost instantly." Fred told him.

"Ah, the wonders of magic!" George put in wistfully. Harry rolled his eyes. He remembered the firewhiskey and mulled mead from last night, and figured that he had gotten drunk off of it.

"How drunk was I last night?" Harry asked, and the twins laughed.

"Not so drunk as Ron." They answered, both laughing. It was at this moment that the aforementioned Ron chose to make his own staggering entrance into the kitchen.

"Speak of the drunken devil." George said, laughing at his younger brother's antics. Mrs. Weasley grabbed Ron by the shoulder, and all but threw him into a chair, plopping down another mug of potion in front of him.

"Drink!" she scolded, and Ron did so, and he had no spluttering reaction like Harry. He just wrinkled up his face after he was done.

"Disgusting." Ron mumbled, making a face. Harry stared at him, wondering if he had ever taken the potion before. He didn't remember Ron ever bragging about getting drunk, and he was certain that he would have brought it up at least once.

"Taken like a champion, Ron." Fred commended.

"Yeah, most people can't handle that on their first try." George said, confirming Harry's suspicion that Ron had never tried alcohol.

"What was it?" Ron asked, scratching his neck, and letting out a loud, foul smelling belch.

"Hang-over Draught." Harry answered, and Mrs. Weasley harrumphed loudly in the back ground. Fred motioned, and they all leaned in tight.

"Mum's pissed that we got the pair of you drunk last night. She thinks it was irresponsible to let you," here he looked pointedly at Harry, "be potentially vulnerable out in the open." Fred rolled his eyes, and they all laughed, but there was a mild edge of uneasiness.

After the Wedding Battle, the possibility of another attack by Voldemort was all too real. The security around the Burrow had been multiplied ten fold since the attack.

Harry has seen half a dozen Order wizards laying down strengthened shield enchantments and contained apparition zones about the house for a day or two after the attack. He knew from what he had overheard during dinners that there was always at least six or seven wizards from the Order guarding the Burrow.

He knew that the burrow was easily considered as one of the Order's top three secured locations. The attack had startled the Order. They relied on the Burrow as a place of meeting and refuge. With the strengthened wards, Lupin seemed content that nothing like the attack could be repeated.

According to the trio's trainer, the attack had been extremely odd, and very worrying. Firstly, Voldemort had not commited many Death Eaters to the attack, only the three that Ron had captured, and all three of them had been minor Death Eaters. It was clear that they had not animated the corpses themselves, but rather garnered control after they had been brought into undeath.

Secondly, the forces that he had sent were massive. The Order found it disconcerting that Voldemort was willing to sacrifice well over a thousand Inferi soldiers in an attack that he clearly did not foresee as doing any major damage.

Lupin had said that the fact that he had thrown so many of his servants into the battle indicated that he clearly had many more, or at least plans to create many more. The thing was, since Inferi could only be created out of the recently dead, the Order feared that it was the latter that the Dark Lord had in mind.

"Oh well, we had fun, and nothing bad happened, so she can't be that angry." Ron reasoned, and Fred and George gave him incredulous looks. Even Harry was skeptical. Mrs. Weasley was well known for her furious temper.

"Yep, and there is a good chance the sun is rising in the west tomorrow." Fred answered. He checked his watch.

"Well, George, old chap, we should get over to the store. I reckon it's about time we graced our employees with our royal presence, don't you?" Fred asked, rising from his chair.

"I do indeed. Later, ladies!" George said as the twins left the room. Ron and Harry jeered at them as the pair of them left, earning a choice set of hand gestures in return.

"What time is Lupin coming?" Ron asked, stifling a huge yawn.

"About ten thirty, like he has every day for the past week and a bit, you prat." Harry answered, shaking his head. It was marvelous just how unobservant Ron was. Jus then, Mrs. Weasley dropped a plated pile high with toast and bacon in between the two teens.

"Brilliant!" Ron expounded, and he began piling some of the food onto his own plate. Harry laughed at his friend's predictable reaction, and grabbed the rest of the food before the red headed feedbag could eat it all.

Harry and Ron were still plowing through their breakfasts, which now also included sausages and eggs, by the time that Hermione appeared down stairs. Whereas Harry and Ron were still dressed in pajama pants and t-shirts, the teen witch had already dressed in jeans and a tank top, ready for their morning's training.

Harry was uncomfortably aware of how tight the tank top was, and how it managed to show off her breasts and her flat stomach. Harry filed the thoughts away instantly, reminding himself that loose garments were detrimental in a fight.

"Morning, Hermione." Mrs. Weasley greeted, and Ron mumbled something through his mouthful of food, and Hermione's face wrinkled in distaste. Harry thought that she would have gotten used to it through the years, but apparently she hadn't. Harry had stopped noticing when Ron talked through his food ages ago. He was even getting pretty good at figuring out what he was saying.

"Morning" she replied, sitting at the table. Mrs. Weasley dropped a plate full of food in front of her, and Hermione, surprisingly, wasted no time in attacking at fervently as Ron. Harry stared at her in surprise.

"What, I'm hungry. And besides, we need our energy for when Lupin gets here." She justified, seeing Harry's look. Harry just shook his head, and dived back to his own plate. Mrs. Weasley put a second plate on, and Ron found himself combating not only with Harry for more, but with Hermione as well. Ron gave her a reproachful look, and Hermione responded by stealing the last piece of bacon off of his fork.

"Hey!" He protested, but Hermione just smirked and popped the bacon into her mouth. She chewed it slowly, tormenting Ron. Harry restrained his laughter while shoveling down the rest of his bacon, hoping that Ron wouldn't notice that he still had a few pieces.

Ron did notice, however, and an impromptu sword fight broke out with their forks. Just as Harry speared the final piece, Lupin walked into the kitchen. He laughed at the teenage antics.

"Nice to see you guys are prepared to work today." He commented dryly, looking pointedly at the boys' baggy pajama pants and bare feet. Harry shrugged.

"Yeah, yeah, we'll get dressed, old man." He grumbled, shuffling his way passed the werewolf. As he passed him, Lupin swatted him on the back of the head.

"Old man indeed. You can't even dodge a simple swipe." Lupin teased, and Harry walked away, rubbing the back of his head.

Five minutes or so later when they came back down stairs, Hermione was already at work levitating the cookie. She even looked over to them when they walked in and kept it airborne.

"Hi" She said, and both Harry and Ron stopped dead in their tracks. While what she said was in no way extraordinary, the fact that she could talk and maintain the spell was incredible. They waited for her to say something else, but apparently the small word was all she could handle.

After another minute or so, Hermione set the cookie down on the table gently, unlike so many other times where it had dropped as their power ran out. Harry lifted his hand toward the cookie, but instead of focusing on it, he focused on the air that he knew was there. There was a slight disturbance around the cookie, like looking at the air near a candle, and it rose from the table.

Harry realized that this wasn't nearly as hard as before, and he shifted the air, shunting the cookie sideways. Hermione and Ron both looked at him astounded.

"What?" He said, and he was pleased that the cookie stayed upright. Ron's mouth hung open, and Harry grinned. He turned the cookie around, and sent it flying into Ron's open mouth.

Once Ron was done coughing and spluttering, Lupin congratulated Harry on his improvement, and invited Ron to have a try at a new cookie, which he had produced from a box on the table.

They went at it for an hour or so, taking turns, and Lupin advised them all on what Harry had done by condensing the air. They all suddenly found the task much easier.

"Alright, I think you guy can handle this measly cookie." Lupin told them, standing up. "Alright, lets go." He said, and they all stood up, ready for their duels with him. They were all inspired by their near win in the last session.

However, once they left the kitchen, Lupin didn't turn towards the back door like he normally did, but into the Weasley's living room. The three teens shared a confused look, and then followed Lupin.

Sitting in the middle of the living room was a trunk that looked vaguely familiar to Harry. When Lupin bent and slipped a key into one of the seven locks that adorned the face of the chest.

"That's Moody's!" Harry said, and Lupin nodded, and pulled open a drawer.

"It is, and we are going in here today." Lupin said, and indicated that they should climb into the chest. As they approached it, the realized that open drawer revealed a descending staircase.

Ron climbed in first, and Harry gave Hermione a quick hand up. She smiled at him.

"How gentlemanly, Potter." Lupin said quietly as Harry climbed in. Harry stopped, and turned back to the professor.

"Bite me!" Harry hissed at him, and darted away down the steps. Lupin just shook his head, and stepped in after them, closing the drawer with a wave of his wand.

As he descended the steps, Harry was wondering what exactly they were doing down here, in this dank pit. As he stepped off the stairs, his wonders were answered in a glitter of silver.

The rectangular room was lined, wall to wall, with weapons. Not machine guns, or handguns, but archaic medieval weapons. Ron was already at one of the walls, running his fingers over the gleaming swords and axes, and Hermione was nodding sagely, as if she understood what was going on.

Lupin stood in the doorway, watching them. Harry turned back, looking at him questioningly.

"Pick something." He encouraged, and Harry looked between him and the weapons, still not understanding. Hermione rolled her eyes, and sighed. Grabbing him by the arm, she led him off to the racks on the walls.

"Harry, do you remember Professor Lupin talking about how the constant use of magic is extremely draining on a witch or wizard?" She asked, and Harry nodded.

"Yeah, I can remember yesterday." He answered snappishly. She rolled her eyes again.

"Well then use your head! If magic is extremely draining to use over a long period of time, we would want to have these weapons because…" She left off.

"Because, they won't drain our magical strength." Harry answered, understanding. He looked at the weapons in front of him. He wished he knew more about swords and axes and other weapons in that moment. He looked across at Ron, who was already taking some test swings with a two handed axe. Harry shrugged, and after a shared look with Hermione, hoisted a nearby broadsword off the wall.

They had been working with the weapons for nearly half an hour before Lupin called them back together. When they came, Ron was still holding tightly to his battle axe, Hermione was toying with a saber, still unable to decided, and Harry was sporting a pair of long curved blades; scimitars.

"Well, I take it at least one of you figured out why I brought you guys down here?" Lupin asked, and both Harry and Hermione nodded, but Ron just shrugged.

"You wanted us to choose weapons. We need them for fighting, you think, for when our magic is exhausted." Hermione answered.

'That's right. You have all 'studied' History of Magic. The bloody goblin rebellions were hard fought, with swords, axes, spears and wands. It is true that you will most likely use magic, but if this breaks into a full scale war, you will need to know how to use the weapons you select. Make sure you are comfortable with what you choose." Lupin told them.

"I am happy with this axe." Ron said beaming. He hoisted the heavy weapon, displaying it proudly. It had a long, dark wooden handle. It was double sided, and curves wickedly. There was a foot long blade jutting out from between the tips of the axe.

"And these swords are fine for me." Harry said, thinking that this whole thing was a bit ridiculous. Lupin looked expectantly at Hermione, who shrugged.

"I still don't know." She said, sounding guilty and sorry.

"No problem, just take your time." Lupin told her, smiling gently. She nodded, and stepped back to the wall. She placed the saber back, and pulled down a small axe, which she returned almost immediately.

"Do you want to practice with those Harry?" Lupin asked, and Harry shrugged. Lupin waved his wand, and a padded pole rose from the ground.

"Have a go with them, Harry." Lupin suggested, before he turned around to help Ron, as the enthusiastic red head was already swinging away with his axe. Harry turned to the padded pole, shrugged, and, feeling a bit ridiculous, launched a lazy side arm swipe with both blades. The blades were ripped from his hands almost as soon as he made contact with the pole. The light cut hadn't been enough to tear through the padding, and it had stuck in the fabric. The blades clattered to the floor.

Cursing loudly enough to draw a reproachful gaze from Hermione, Harry scooped up the blades and launched another side arm attack, this time driving the blades across savagely. They sliced cleanly through the padding, which repaired itself magically almost instantly.

He turned with the momentum of his swing, and brought the blades up high, spinning and launching them downward in an overhead double chop. The blades plowed though the top inch of fabric, but were once again ripped from Harry's grasp, only to stand quivering in the wood of the pole top.

As he wrenched the blades out, he heard Hermione laughing at him. He looked at her, his eyes wild with anger.

"Do you find this funny?" He growled, and she shrugged, and then nodded.

"I guess so." She answered cheekily. Harry noticed that she appeared to have decided on her weapons. In her right hand, she clutched a long knife, about a foot long. In her left, she held a saber, slim and curving gently to the tip.

"Go on, I'd like to see you do better!" Harry challenged, gesturing with the blade in his right hand.

"Whatever you want, Harry." She answered sweetly, giving him a broad smile. It gave him a moment's pause. She stepped up to the pole, and held the saber out in front of her. The knife in her right hand was poised low beside her hip.

She leapt forward, and cleaved the air in a downward angled cut, right to left. She left a deep scoring in the fabric, which closed quickly. She brought the saber whipping back across at chest height, scoring another deep wound on the pole. She continued this way, her feet rather static, and never using her right hand. After a few moments, she stopped, breathing a little heavier then normal.

"Much better than you, I presume." She said haughtily. Harry stared at her dubiously.

"I'm in a fencing club during the summers. Well, I _was_ in a fencing club during the summers. One of my Muggle friends, from my school before Hogwarts, joined, so I joined to spend time with her during the summer." Hermione explained. She hefted the saber. Harry stared at her blankly, not understanding how that would have helped her be so good with a sword.

"This is actually quite similar to a fencing foil. Although fencing is more stabbing then slashing, we played around a bit." She said, noticing Harry's blank look. It was a moment before his brain kicked back that _fencing_ was sword fighting, like at the Olympics.

"I guess I never thought about the Muggle stuff that you do over the summer." Harry said guiltily. Hermione brushed off the apology with a wave of her hand.

"Don't worry about it. It's not like I ever brought it up, did I? No, we were all always just happy to be together again at the start of the school year, and there was always more important things to talk about." Hermione told him. Harry nodded. It was true. There were always pressing issues to discuss when the trio had been at Hogwarts. Things like homework, quidditch, who was dating who, Snape's gitdom, the new Defense teacher, not to mention Voldemort always seemed to be the important things.

"I guess." Was all Harry said as an answer. He turned back to the padded pole, already healed from the deep cuts Hermione had scored.

"When you attack, you didn't use your knife at all. And you didn't really move your feet. Shouldn't you be using both hands?" Harry asked. Hermione shrugged.

"Probably, but I'm not used to fighting with two weapons. Nor one, really. The thing is, I have my wand in my right hand, so if I ever have to used this thing, it'll be with the left hand, and without the knife. I only grabbed it to balance out the look and feel really." Hermione answered.

"I suppose." Harry said doubtfully. He figured he would probably only be fighting with one hand too, if it ever came down to it.

"I think that tomorrow we should go to Diagon Alley, and try and find some books on sword fighting and stuff. This'll be easier if we read up on technique first." Hermione told him.

"Only you would reduce bloody fighting to books, wouldn't you Hermione?" Ron said, cutting into the conversation.

"Yes Ron, only me. Oh, and the people who right our defense texts. Oh, and our charms text. And the people who write most spell books with combative spells. And Sun-Tzu, and other military strategists. But of course, it's just me Ron." She said dryly. Lupin restrained the urge to laugh as he stood over Ron's shoulder.

"Hermione; one, Ron; zero." He quipped, earning himself a beaming smile from the brunette, and a glower from the red head.

"I think that we have had enough time down here for today. We'll call it a short lesson." Lupin said.

"But we didn't learn anything." Harry complained. Lupin looked at him in surprise.

"I would have expected that from Hermione. But if you insist, I will teach you something that will be useful in your training with these weapons." He said with a smile. Wasting no time, he plucked the long knife from Hermione's fingers, and raised his wand so that it touched tip to tip with the blade.

"_Guardina!_" he said, and a bright red film slid down the blade, and then with a final flash, it disappeared. Next he turned to Harry.

"May I?" He asked, raising his wand. Harry nodded uncertainly. Lupin raised his wand, placed it on Harry's head and repeated the same enchantment. Harry saw the film cover his eyes, and then flash brightly. He looked at Lupin, expecting something to happen.

Smiling broadly, Lupin stabbed ahead, straight into Harry's stomach. Harry jerked back, and fell over clutching his stomach. He heard Hermione screaming, and Ron shouting, and Lupin trying to defend himself.

"Look!" he screamed at last, pointing at Harry. Harry was writhing on the ground, in pain. However, there was no blood anywhere, not on his clothes, or on the floor.

"_Finite incantatum!_" Lupin shouted. Harry instantly stopped moving, and sat up, acting quite normally, looking about perplexed. His hands patted his stomach fervently, and he looked up at Lupin.

"What the hell did you do?" Harry asked, not sounding at all angry, giving that he had realized he was completely unharmed.

"The spell that I used is for training with weapons. It simulates realistic pain from a wound without actually inflicting it. It was invented so that fighting wizards, and at the time of its invention, the knights that they were to be fighting with, wouldn't go into shock from pain when they were wounded. They have already experienced the pain of most wounds." Lupin explained, and they all nodded.

"The knights they were fighting with? You mean Muggles and wizards used to live together?" Ron asked, incredulous.

"Yes, but that is a lesson for another time." Lupin said with a smile. "Now I really must be going, I have…erm… plans for this evening." Lupin said, going faintly red.

"Shagging" Harry coughed, moments before Hermione coughed 'Tonks'. Ron looked at them both, and Lupin flushed a distinctly brighter shade of red.

"Erm, yes, let's go. Out of the trunk." Lupin said, trying to maintain he dignity. He shooed them with him hands.

Ruthlessly teasing the ex-professor, the three youths made their way up the stone staircase and out into the living room. Ginny, who was seated on one of the worn couches, looked up at the site of them stepping from the trunk. Her eyes went wide at the sight of the weapons they were all carrying.

"I will bright some sheaths and straps for you all when I come again tomorrow." Lupin promised once they were all out, and he had shrunk the trunk. "Now I have to go. Good bye." He said, leaving the room as he tucked the reduced trunk into his pocket.

"Oh, damn!" Hermione swore right after they heard the faint 'pop' of his apparation. Both of the boys turned and looked at her. She never swore.

"We were going to go to Diagon Alley tomorrow, remember?" She asked Harry, who nodded, remembering that she had mentioned going to Diagon Alley earlier.

"So what, we can still go." Ron said, yawning loudly. "I'm hungry!" He declared loudly.

"We can't go, Ronald, because Remus said he was coming." Hermione explained in an exasperated voice.

"Owl him." Ron suggested, shrugging his shoulders. "Seriously, do you think my mum is making dinner yet?" Hermione rolled her eyes, at him, and grabbed him by the elbow, and led him away toward the kitchen.

"Honestly, do you ever think about anything besides food, Ronald?" She asked, a smile playing on her lips. Ron shrugged.

"Sometimes. But then I'm thinking about how to get food, not the food itself." He joked. Harry laughed, and set off after the pair.

**A/N: I'm not going to lie, I am very dissatisfied with this chapter, well the last little bit, but I thought that I should get it up, seeing as how I haven't updated in a while. I have a really heavy course load at the moment, and its bogging me down. That and my downright laziness and this excessive writer's block I have. That's what I get for participating in three text-based RPG's that require creativity. Honestly, they are eating my writing ideas. **

**Anyways, I would LOVE a decent number of reviews. I have another pole for you guys. Do you think low reviews are a good or a bad thing?**

**Oh and that editor I was happy about has gone AWOL, so I am afraid you will have to suffer another chapter with some atrocious errors. I read it over, but i'm betting I missed some. SORRY!**

**Strider: **_Yeah, that's some classic Yoda! Thanks for reviewing!_

**Ladylaughalot: **_I know that there are typos and I'm sorry. I'm working on reducing them. And I know that the Harry and Hermione bit was a bit OOC, but I have seen people make stories with WAY more OOC bits in them. For example, Dramione fics. All authors of fics containing this ship are mentally invalid. Thanks for the review!_

**Rainbow star: **_Thank you for your review. I was afraid that the shippy bits I was sticking in were bad. Thank you!_

**Lunar Kasumi:**_ Luna will be in the story later. I'm really not sure when. But I promise, there will be R/L later. _

**harry'n'mione4ever******_The wandless magic thing is a really strong basis from which my sotry is based. I hope I did a good job explaining it. I expanded on it a bit here too._

**Imakeeper:**_ I'm not a huge Ron fan either._

**Dave a.k.a. Lord Chandler**


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